


90 Days

by gaypanic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: 90 day fiancee au, Abuse, Alternate Universe - No Curse, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/F, minor captain swan, swan queen is endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 06:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11983851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaypanic/pseuds/gaypanic
Summary: Using a unique 90-day fiancé Visa (K-1 Visa), Emma Swan plans to move from England to the U.S. to live with her American fiancé, Killian Jones, who she met over the holidays last year. They have 90 days to wed before her Visa expires and she is sent home. So what happens when she moves in and Killian isn’t the person she thought he was? And what happens when a certain brunette catches her eye, and soon after...her heart?She has only 90 days to decide whether or not to marry Killian (her only option considering he is the petitioner of this special Visa) before she is sent back to England and the chances of her being able to return to the U.S. permanently plummet significantly.





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parrillayeah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parrillayeah/gifts).



> Shoutout to Nicole for this fic idea and also for /basically/ writing the summary for me. (LOVE YOU BAB)
> 
> I'll be updating the tags/ratings/etc as I update the chapters. 
> 
> I apologize for any and all errors, this is an un-beta'd story. 
> 
> Other things you might find useful to know:  
> 1\. I'm imagining Storybrooke as being near Portland  
> 2\. Killian has two fully functioning hands  
> 3\. Henry isn't in this story (sorry)

The airport is busy, but Emma Swan is too nervous and too excited to be bothered by any of it. Her mom had sent her off with the advice to sleep on her first flight, and she tried, she really did. But the whole eight hours over, all she could do was squirm in her seat, annoy the impatient man sitting next to her, and imagine what life would be like once she landed in the United States and moved in with her fiancé.

Now, she’s squirming on her seat as her second and shorter flight prepares for takeoff.

“Our flight time will be of one hour and forty minutes. We should be arriving in Portland, Maine at 11:20 A.M. At this time, make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position and that your seat belt is correctly fastened. Thank you.”

She doesn’t think about how uncharacteristic the squeal that leaves her mouth is as she adjusts her seat belt, jumping in her seat ever so slightly with giddiness. The little old lady next to her grins a knowing smile, already more tolerable than her last seat mate. “What’s his name?”

Emma gapes at her, “How…?”

“Honey, I know love when I see it.” Emma returns her smile, which never really left. “So what’s his name? What’s the story?”

The blonde runs her hand through her hair, sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck, “Uh, it’s kind of a long story? Okay, well maybe it’s not that long, but it’s pretty big, and I don’t want to bore you.”

“If it’s big, how could it bore me?” The woman raised her eyebrows in challenge.

Letting out a nervous laugh, Emma tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “His name’s Killian. I met him the Christmas before last when he was visiting his brother in England, which is where I’m from. My parents live there,” she explains. “That week was one of the best weeks of my life. People always talk about love at first sight, on TV and those friends of a friend that met in high school, and my parents. _God, my parents_. I never believed it. But Killian was just suddenly there, and he was so… sweet. I ran into him at the grocery store - literally. He made a joke, and that was it. We’ve been talking ever since, and he proposed about six months ago. My visa just got approved.”

“I’m so happy for you, honey. He certainly is a lucky guy.”

“Thank you. I think I’m really lucky too.” She smiles over at the woman as the plane rocks it’s way into the air, their conversation falling flat. Emma glances out the window next to her, thinking about luck. It’s almost too fortunate how perfectly this worked out. The chances of them meeting was slim enough, but adding in the fact that all their aspirations and plans for the future line up, it’s almost uncanny. But Emma doesn’t dwell on it, because soon she’ll be living it. What could go wrong?

* * *

 

As soon as the plane lands, Emma leaps from her seat even though she knows she’s just going to be in the same place waiting for everyone to filter off the plane. The lady next to her lets her cut in front of her with a “go get him, honey” and Emma shoots her a grin as she weaves through the masses and finally makes her way to baggage claim, her heart thrumming in her chest.

Suitcase wrangled from the conveyor belt, Emma follows the crowd through the airport, watching as people veer off to reconnect with their loved ones, all hugs and smiles. She stops to look around for Killian. When she doesn’t see him, she keeps walking. She goes a little further, stopping again when she starts to worry. _I told him the right time, didn’t I? The right airport? I’m sure I did._ That’s when she sees her name typed on a piece of paper in the hands of someone she doesn’t recognize.

She walks over to the guy, young and kind of scruffy looking. He’s wearing a badge that says “Storybrooke Sheriff,” and she realizes that he must be Killian’s boss. Killian must be at work. She briefly thinks that he should have mentioned that when they were talking last night but shrugs it off. For all she knows, something happened. But if something happened, the _Sheriff_ wouldn’t be here, he would be back in town.

“Emma Swan?” The man speaks, firm but relaxed. Emma is surprised to hear he has an accent.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she smiles at the stranger, propping her rolling suitcase to stand on its side so she can take the guy’s hand.

“Sheriff Hunt, but you can call me Graham,” he says, returning Emma’s handshake. “Sorry if I surprised you. Killian said he couldn’t make it.” Emma blinks in surprise. _That doesn’t sound like a work thing._ But she brushes the thought away. It’s not a big deal, she’ll see him soon enough. “Ready to go?”

Emma follows Graham outside, alarmed to see that he’s leading her to his patrol car. He shoots her a grin over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you sit in the back.” Emma chuckles while he puts her luggage in the trunk. Before they climb into the car and start the short trip to Storybrooke.

Distracted by the trees as they drive by, Emma thinks back to Killian’s proposal, or more specifically, when he had suggested she move to the states with him. It was one of the rare times they got to Skype, and he was already smiling when his face appeared on her screen.

_“Hey, love.”_

_“Hey, how’s your day going?”_

_“Sucks.” He rolled his eyes before taking a swig of his beer. He holds it up to the camera. “Gotta chill out.”_

_“Oh, you don’t have work?”_

_“Nah, I still do. But it’ll be fine. It’s just one. You know I don’t like being drunk.”_

_Emma nodded, “Yeah, I remember you telling me. So what’d you want to talk to me about?”_

_Swallowing his next sip, Killian didn’t hesitate. “I want you to move in with me.” Ema was too stunned to answer. “I know, I know, it’s crazy, but you said you always wanted to come over here, and you know I would like it if you were here.” He paused, taking another sip before stretching his face into a smile. “Sorry, Emma. I’m just nervous. I already started the paperwork.”_

_“Paperwork?”_

_“Yeah, to get you a K-1 Visa. It’s good for at least ninety days until we get married.”_

_Emma breathed out a laugh with a quick shake of her head, “I’d love to, but are you sure that’s enough time to plan our wedding? Cause we talked about having it--”_

_“Big, I know,” he said, finishing her sentence. “It’ll be plenty of time. Besides, we still have to wait for the Visa to get approved. It should give you enough time to get ready to move out, and me enough time to get ready for you here. Does that sound good?”_

_Emma beamed at him through the computer’s fuzzy lens. It did sound good._

“So, uh,” The sound of Graham’s voice jolts Emma from her thoughts, making her jump ever so slightly, “You’re planning on moving to Storybrooke permanently?”

“Maybe not Storybrooke permanently, but definitely the States permanently,” she says, looking over to Graham, his eyebrows crease together suddenly like he’s just seen a part in a movie he needs to rewatch.

“Oh! Uh, alright, where are you thinking of moving to?”

Emma shrugs, “I’ve always liked the idea of living in a big city. Maybe not New York or Chicago, but I think New Orleans would be really cool? I really love the culture. Not that there’s anything wrong with small towns of course,” she adds with an apologetic wave. “I just don’t think it’s for me.”

Graham nods consistently through her explanation. “I see. Why is that?”

“My parents live in a small town, and it’s cute and homey, but it’s also really slow. Living somewhere so full of opportunity would be so exciting, so new. It would never get boring. I know it’s an unpopular opinion, but I really think that’s the perfect kind of place to raise a family.”

“You want a family?”

“Yeah, of course.” Graham’s eyes shift to her curiously, and Emma’s narrow at him. “Why? Do I look like the kind of girl who wouldn’t want kids or something?”

Graham’s eyes don’t flicker back to her, locked up front on the road. He puckers his lips together, shaking his head. There’s a brief moment of silence before he says, “So, Killian, huh?” Emma laughs (“yeah”). “He’s an interesting guy to say the least.”

“So you guys work together?”

“Yeah, for a few years now. Though technically I’m his boss. Regardless, me and some of the guys go out together when we have a chance, Killian included.”

“Oh, so you guys are friends too?”

Graham sucks in a harsh breath, eyes conflicted. “I don’t know if I’d…” he trails off with a sigh. “I guess you could say that.”

Emma laughs, “Yeah, I was thinking you guys must be friends if he asked you to come and get me. I mean, you’re the _Sheriff_. It’s amazing they could let you go.”

Graham’s mouth formed a tight line. “Storybrooke’s crime rate isn’t exactly high, but I get what you mean. I’m someone the town is missing, yet I’m the one picking you up.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, it’s odd, isn’t it.” There’s something in his voice that makes Emma nervous, but she can’t figure it out. She lets the car fall silent for a while. Graham breaks the silence a moment later. “So how long have you been together?”

And all Emma can think is how odd it is that he’s asking her that. When she and Killian decided to become an official couple, she told everyone. Her parents knew, her friends knew, and even her boss knew. When he proposed, she told everyone; when he asked her to move, she told everyone; and when her visa got accepted, she told everyone. But then again, maybe Killian isn’t as open about all of it. Just because he doesn’t talk about it, doesn’t mean he’s not excited.

She tells Graham the story of their meeting and when Killian asked her out, and it’s clear by his reactions that he’s never heard these stories before. Emma isn’t sure what to think about that so she doesn’t, continuing her storytelling for the rest of the journey, completely missing the conflicted face Graham is sporting that only becomes more concerned the longer Emma talks. He nods, politely, hoping that maybe he’s just missed something.

* * *

 

Graham pulls into the station and runs around to open the door for Emma. “Sorry, we’ve gotta come here. Killian’s supposed to be here in about thirty minutes.” He goes around to the trunk to get Emma;s stuff out, and she nods, confused. _Why couldn’t Kilian come get me if he isn’t even at work?_

“Where is he now?”

Graham shrugs, “I have no idea. He just said he had some stuff to do. Maybe it has to do with the paperwork for your visa?”

“Maybe…” Emma says, even though she knows that’s not the case. When they had finished doing the respective paperwork, Killian had told her all he had left was to pay the fee. When he told her it was $3000, she insisted on helping, but he had refused, saying that he was doing this for her, that he would just start working more shifts. One of the requirements for Killian being the sponsor for her visa was that he had to be able to support her financially. (“It means I’m gonna have to work _a lot,_ ” he had said before tagging on a “Don’t worry, love, I’ll still have plenty of time for you.”)

Sitting in the station surrounded by people she doesn’t know, her fiancé nowhere to be found, she hopes that it’s still the case, because neither seem to be true right now.

As if reading her mind, she suddenly hears his voice moving down the hallway, and she perks up at the sound, alert and smiling and ready for when he walks in the door, and then he does, and her heart leaps.

“Yeah, I know. I said--” Killian huffs into the phone. “It’s gonna be fine, okay. You’re overreacting.” His eyes flicker to Emma and he holds up a finger. “I’ll call you back later, okay? I just got to the station. Mhmm, yeah you too.” He turns off his phone and slides it in his pocket before finally turning to Emma, giving her a half smile before stepping to her, one arm out. She meets him the rest of the way, wrapping both arms around him.

“I’m so happy to see you. I know you’ve got a lot going on, but I missed you at the airport,” she says, leaning back a little in his arms, not wanting to let go. They’re finally reunited, like they’ve been looking forward too for weeks. She’s surprised when he pulls away, giving her a chaste kiss before he does so. (“When I get you in my arms tomorrow, I’m not letting you go for one second.”)

“Sorry, love, I had somewhere to be. Graham said he didn’t mind.” He’s rustling through his desk, acting like he just saw Emma yesterday, and she isn’t sure what to do. So she nods and sits back in the hard chair against the wall, waiting for him to tell her. He glances up at her, “I just have to get something done here real quick and then we can go.”

“Okay,” she says, but her voice sounds small and unlike how she sounds in her mind. She locks the observation away with her thoughts on the conversation she and Graham shared in the car. Some things can wait to be addressed, if ever. It’s probably not important.

While she waits for her fiancé, she fidgets with the strap on her bag, adjusting the length from longer to shorter, longer to shorter, longer to shorter-- “Can you not do that?” Killian’s voice alarms her. “Sorry. Please? We’ll be leaving in a minute. Just be patient.” And she stops, not saying anything this time.

She doesn’t speak up again until they’ve arrived at Killian’s house and he says, “Nice, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” she says. Her voice still sounds small, and she wishes it would stop.

He leads her around the house pointing every so often with an accompanied phrase, “Living room. Kitchen. Bathroom. Laundry.” It’s the same upstairs. “And last, but certainly not least,” he says with a wink, “Our room is here. That’s our bed, and I made some room for your stuff in the dresser and the closet.”

She sits her suitcase at the foot of the bed. “I guess I should unpack later?”

Killian chuckles, pulling Emma closer to him by the waist, smiling at her like he’s just now realizing that she’s officially here, his fiancée, living with him. He kisses her, like he should have the first time at the station, and she smiles. She worried for nothing. “I know you’d like to try out the bed, but unfortunately, I’ve got to go back to work. Make up for that visa fee and everything.”

There’s a pang in Emma’s chest, and she tries to push it away to no avail. “I told you I could--”

“Emma, I already told you I was handling it.” And she can’t help but wonder, if that’s true, then why does she feel so guilty about it?

“Okay,” she says.

“I’ll see you tonight. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back, but we can definitely spend some time together when I get off, alright? Sound good? Oh, and if you need anything, I’ve left a twenty on the counter with your key. We’ll deal with the money thing tomorrow.”

Emma nods and he gives her another half grin and a kiss so short she hardly has time to return it before she is left standing in Killian’s room, _their_ room, with only one suitcase to unpack.

* * *

 

It takes Emma less than thirty minutes to unpack everything she brought with her.

She tries to kill time by sitting around on her phone, but then she remembers it’s not active in the U.S. yet. She thinks she ought to go figure out how to do that, but it’s Killian’s money, so she would need him with her.

Instead, she grabs a book she brought with her, sits on the couch, and reads.

She’s still reading when her stomach growls the first time.

And the second time.

And the third.

Finally, she can’t take it anymore, and she walks to the kitchen. More time has passed than she thought; it’s been hours. She’s surprised to see that it’s after 7:00, and Killian still isn’t back. She remembers when they found out the visa was accepted, Killian smiling at her on Skype, telling her that er first night in, he was going to take her out on a proper date. She could order whatever she wanted, no matter how expensive. They could get drinks (because it was a special occasion). They could go home and spend the night together, doing whatever Emma wanted.

But now it’s dinnertime, and she’s standing in front of his now open fridge, it’s only contents being a twenty-four case of shitty beer, some ketchup, a take-out box she’s afraid to open, and half a pack of microwavable hot dogs.

Her stomach growls again, and with a groan, she grabs the twenty dollar bill off the counter, scribbles a note for Killian on a piece of scrap paper, and leaves the house.

Walking down the street is nice because it isn’t dark yet, but all of it is unfamiliar, and she’s not sure which direction to head. It takes her a couple of blocks to get past all the houses, and then once she’s hit the business area, she feels a little bit better. There’s a pawn shop, a grocery store, a butcher shop, an ice cream parlor… None suitable for dinner.

The first restaurant she sees is across the street, but by the looks of it, her twenty dollars from Killian wouldn’t be good enough. It looks like the kind of place she thought she would be tonight, on a real date with Killian, dressed up and smiling. She keeps walking until the station suddenly appears a little ways down the street. For a moment she considers going by the station to see Killian, but something in her gut twists and she doesn’t. Instead, she turns and walks the other way.

Once her steps have been retraced and she’s coming up on new establishments, she finds a quaint little diner called Granny’s, and she shrugs, thinking it’s the best she’s going to get at this point, and her stomach isn’t interested in waiting any longer, nor is she.

As she steps through the front doors, a bell chimes, and a grandmotherly woman waves at her, telling her to sit wherever she would like and someone would be right over to help her. There’s not many people in the restaurant, but it’s clear that they all either know each other well or at least have a vague idea of who everyone is, with the exception of Emma that is, and she uncomfortably meanders through the table setup to a booth in the back corner.

She’s taking a quick glance at the menu to make sure that her funds will be sufficient when a tall waitress appears at the end of her table, “Hey, I’m Ruby, and you must be… visiting?”

“Uh, no, I actually just moved here.”

Ruby’s eyes go wide, “Today? Like, _today_ today?”

“Yeah, like seven or eight hours ago, I guess.” Ruby’s intense gaze on her hasn’t lessened, so Emma asks, “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that… It’s a small town. You know, when people move here it’s usually cause they know someone who already lives here.”

 _Oh_ . Emma thinks. _She doesn’t know. Should she know?_ Instead of mentioning Killian, she asks instead, “So does everyone here know each other?”

The waitress snorts. “Yeah, pretty much. And if we don’t know someone personally, we usually know _of_ them. It’s really easy to get a reputation here, especially if it’s a bad one. Hopefully you won’t have that problem.”

Emma nods, not wanting to find out what happens if she brings up Killian. She can’t help but feel a little jaded. If everyone here knows each other, why does nobody know who she is? Did Killian really not mention her at all? “Yeah, me too.”

“So anyway, do you want some coffee? Water? Vodka? We’ve got it all. Well, a lot of it anyway,” she corrects with a grin.

“Coffee sounds good, yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back.”

Ruby set her coffee down, and Emma opted to wait a few more minutes before ordering. She’s hesitant to do so because she doesn’t want to keep Killian waiting, but at the same time, she has no idea when he’s going to be back. She’s going to be lonely no matter where she goes, so she might as well sit somewhere where she could get to know some of the town.

She’s taking a sip of her coffee staring at the menu when the little bell chimes, and Emma looks up, where her eyes find themselves locked on a stunning brunette in a pencil skirt, and Emma isn’t sure what’s wrong with her because she’s A) engaged, B) never liked pencil skirts on anyone, C) can’t seem to look away, and D) still has the coffee cup, stilled at her lips. She goes to put the mug down but does the opposite instead and almost chokes on a surprise gulp of hot coffee. She coughs once, but once is enough. When she glances back up, the woman locks eyes with her. Emma looks back down immediately.

She doesn’t move her eyes from the menu in front of her until she feels a presence at the side of the table and hears a voice as smooth and rich as chocolate asking her, “Is this seat taken?” Emma glances to the left and is unsurprised to see the pencil skirt. She looks up at the woman, shaking her head. “Mind if I join you?” The woman asks again, making herself comfortable.

Emma doesn’t answer because she doesn’t see the point if the woman is already joining her. She shrugs and takes another sip of her coffee. Ruby suddenly appears again, “Hey, Madame Mayor.” Her eyes shift between the two women, unsure if she should make introductions or just leave them to it. Ultimately she just decided to stick to her job and let them worry about the rest. Not her problem. “Coffee?”

“Yes, thank you, Ruby.”

Emma’s eyes are wide, gaping at the woman in front of her. She doesn’t say anything until Ruby has brought Regina’s coffee to the table. “Mayor?”

“Why, are you impressed?” She asks, quirking her eyebrows.

“Yes! I mean… no. I mean--” Emma stumbles over her words for a moment. “I’m just surprised. That’s all.”

“Does it make you nervous? The mayor joining you for coffee and,” she eyes the menu in front of Emma, “Dinner?”

Emma blinks, “Uh, should it?”

“Maybe it should if you were one of my townspeople. They can’t help but see me as Mayor, but to you, I’m off the clock.”

 _Is she flirting with me?_ Emma’s body temperature rises at the very thought. _This is bad_. “I’m Emma, by the way. Emma Swan,” she says holding out her hand before she realizes that may not be her best course of action. When she feels the mayor’s soft skin on hers, she knows it wasn’t.

“Everyone usually calls me Madame Mayor, but I’ll let you call me Regina.”

Emma smiles at her, letting her hand linger in the brunette’s warm hold, “Nice to meet you, _Regina_.” Finally their hands slide apart, and Emma goes for another sip of her coffee.

“So Miss Swan, what brings you to Storybrooke?” Emma finds herself tongue tied, not because of the incredibly attractive woman across from her that shouldn’t be making her feel the way she is, but because she’s nervous about bringing up Killian. Her mind flashes back to Graham’s face on the ride into town, but she clears the thought once again. It’s nothing.

“I actually just moved here.”

Regina cocks her head, “Oh?”

“Yeah, my plane landed this morning. I’m in from England. My, uh, my fiancé lives here. I’m here on a ninety day engagement visa.”

“Oh.” And something crosses Regina’s face that almost looks like disappointment. Regardless, something about it upsets Emma, and she doesn’t like it. Her eyes flicker to Emma’s left hand. “You don’t have a ring,” she states.

Emma’s eyes follow hers down, “Yeah, I guess I don’t.” _Why don’t I?_ When she looks back up, Regina is watching her curiously. “What?”

Regina gives her head a small shake, “It’s just that, an engagement from overseas, fiancée moving into town, you’d think people would have been talking about this.” Emma blushes. _Yeah, you’d think_. “If you don’t mind me asking, who exactly are you engaged to?”

She’s not sure if she should look at Regina when she answers or look away, so she ends up doing both, making her look like she’s spazzing out over the entire interaction. “Uh, Killian Jones.” She’s looking at Regina just in time to see her mouth drop open and she’s looking away in time to hear it click shut. Regina is obviously shocked, and Emma doesn’t think it’s because Killian is some sort of catch.

Regardless, she’s nervous. So she keeps talking. “Yeah, uh, his brother lives in the same town my parents live in, in England. I don’t know him. I mean, I _didn’t_ know him, but Killian was visiting one Christmas and I ran into him at the grocery store, and uh, we spent a lot of time together that week, and then talked online, and then he proposed and asked me to move down here…” Emma trails off, not sure where to proceed, feeling like a deer in the headlights but wanting to feel like a kangaroo in a pouch.

“I see…” Regina says.

Emma finds herself on the verge of losing it in the awkward silence when Ruby reappears, “Did you want food?” Regina shakes her head.

“Uh, grilled cheese?” Emma says, handing Ruby the menu.

“Sure, it’ll be right up,” Ruby smiles at her, oblivious to the awkward tension filling the booth.

After another beat of silence, Regina snorts, “I’m sorry, but grilled cheese?”

Emma laughs, grateful for the subject change, “Hey don’t make fun of me, it’s one of my favorite foods, and uh, he only gave me twenty dollars.”

The sound that echoes in Regina’s throat is somewhere between humor and repulsion, but her face reflects one of the two and it sure as hell isn’t humor. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. That was very rude of me.”

“No, it’s…” and Emma starts to say ‘okay,’ But is it okay? This is her fiancé. Should she be okay with hearing this kind of commentary about him? They’ve been talking for months with no incident. He’s been perfect on all counts, but so far today, Emma’s already lost count of the number of red flags that have come up. What should she do with those? Or better yet, what _can_ she do about those? She’s set to marry Killian. This is the plan.

So she takes all the red flags and locks them away, hoping that everyone is wrong. She’s sure Killian has a reasonable explanation for all of them anyways. “Don’t worry about it,” Emma mutters, and she realizes that her voice has gone small again.

When she peeks up at the mayor’s deep brown eyes, she suspects that Regina heard the littleness as well. She finishes her coffee before giving Emma a sad smile. “Well, I should get out of your hair.” Reaching into her clutch, she pulls out a business card, sliding it to Emma. “If you ever need anything, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, taking the cars and tucking it safely in her pocket.

“I hope you enjoy your grilled cheese. I look forward to seeing more of you around town, Miss Swan,” Regina says with a grin before turning and walking to the counter to pay for her coffee and then to the door.

Emma would be lying if she said she didn’t watch the way her ass moved in that pencil skirt her the whole way. _This can’t happen_ , she chastises herself, pulling out Regina’s card to read it. ( _But it is_ .) _But it can’t_. Emma sighs, tucking the card away again just as Ruby sets her grilled cheese on the table in front of her. “It’s been paid for,” the waitress says.

“What?!”

“Yeah, Mayor Mills paid for it. She said it was the least she could do,” Ruby says with a shrug. “She never does that so she must like you.”

And Emma can’t really say she’s surprised. About any of the events of today.

But she won’t let herself admit it.


	2. Day 2 - Day 15

A week goes by, and Emma remains unsure of a lot of things, continues pushing unwelcome and dangerous thoughts from her mind, but one thing is certain, and that is this isn’t what she expected when Killian asked her to move in.

It doesn’t come as a surprise to her that Killian works for most of the day, but the fact that the only quality time they’ve spent together involves their bedroom leaves Emma disappointed. Not that she’s ungrateful for the intimacy, but she had hoped that they would be spending time together in other ways as well. He says he’s going to do better, make some more room in his schedule, so he does. She smiles at him, curling into his side that night enjoying the comforting warmth, but he turns it into sex, and she’s not sure how to tell him that she’d rather just cuddle.

When it’s over, when he’s finished, he kisses her once before rolling over to sleep. 

Emma doesn’t try to cuddle.

The next morning follows a similar pattern, and when Killian leaves for work, he only kisses Emma goodbye because she calls after him. Because he’s turned around, she misses the quick roll of his eyes before turning to her with a smile. “Sorry, love. Don’t want to be late. You know how important work is,” he says to her with a pointed look that makes her feel immediately guilty for having waited too long to apply for her work permit. ( _ Too long _ by Killian’s definition that is, which was two days after her arrival.)

“I know. You work really hard, and I appreciate you for it.”

He smirks, “I know.”

“And hopefully you won’t be the only one for too much longer,” Emma says, glancing up at him.

His stance changes slightly, “While you having a real job is preferable, in the meantime you know you still have work to do…” He poses it as a question, but his eyes tell her that it’s a command.

Emma nods, knowing that if she speaks, her voice will do that thing again where it shrinks without her permission. It’s been doing that a lot since the move. She knows what he’s asking, and he doesn’t need her verbal confirmation. “Expect me back at seven.” 

He smiles and gives her another quick peck before walking out the door. It closes behind him, and the sound of it makes Emma think it holds more weight in the house than her voice ever will.

They had sorted out the financial situation, in a way that seemed so fair to Killian that she couldn’t help but agree. Emma has an allowance, which allows her enough money to buy groceries for meals, supplies as necessary, and a little extra, just in case. The extra is something Killian is wary about, enough so that she just saves it in her room instead of spending it. She tells herself  _ just in case _ even though she isn’t sure what that really means.

Two weeks ago, before Emma left her parents behind for her fiancé, she would have said she knew him incredibly well. He worked as a police officer in a small town, but had dreams of becoming a detective in a big city, making enough money to support his family. He wanted several kids, definitely a son and definitely a daughter. He loved to have a good time, but alcohol left much to be desired. The most important thing to him was to be open minded and honest, loving everyone, no matter how different they were from him.

But this week, Emma struggles to think to herself that she must have misunderstood a few things. He hasn’t talked much about his dreams or the idea of family, but Emma figures it has something to do with the visa and their wedding. It’s likely he wants to take this one step at a time. It must be a lot of pressure to suddenly have to work enough to support two, as well as save up for a big wedding and an even bigger move. She smiles thinking of his hard work.

But like many of her more recent smiles, it doesn’t last.

Killian drinks a lot. More than she would have expected even without the “you know I don’t like being drunk” dialogue he had always fed her. Several beers a night, sometimes rum, and Emma isn’t sure what to think about it, but she doesn’t care as long as he’s happy.

He isn’t happy if there isn’t any, and she learned that quickly enough. 

It was the third day, and Emma had cooked dinner for the first time. He was back home from work, and she was ready with the table set, food out, and she couldn’t have been more proud of herself as she waited to see the smile on his face when he saw how much she loved him.

_ The door opened, right on time, and Emma greeted him with an appropriately lengthy kiss that he could have smiled into but didn’t. He pulled away and then gave the smile. “Hi,” Emma grinned at him with a follow up kiss. “How was work?”  _

_ Killian rolled his eyes, “It was fine. Work is work.” He sniffed the air, smiling just enough. “Oh, good you made dinner.” Emma smiled ear to ear, nodding proudly. She led him to the dining room, where everything was set up, complete with candles.  _

_ “Cedar planked salmon, because you said you liked fish,” Emma explained. “Also a vegetable medley, mashed potatoes, and gravy I made from scratch. I even picked out a fancy wine that goes well with seafood. I don’t know a lot about wine, but I did some research because I wanted it to be perfect.” She poured two glasses and handed him one. He set it down like it was poison. _

_ “Sorry to disappoint, love, but I don’t care for wine.” He gestured at the meal, “The food looks great though, really.” Emma nodded, watching as Killian walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. She took a large sip of her wine. For a moment, she heard nothing from the kitchen, but then the refrigerator door closed, more forcefully than it had opened, and footsteps sounded back towards the dining room, louder than they had originally exited.  _

_ “Emma…” Killian’s voice was strained, controlled in a way Emma never expected him to sound. “Where’s the beer?” _

_ “Um…” Emma starts, flinching, unsure if it’s at the shakiness of his voice or the smallness of hers. “I didn’t get any.” _

_ “What do you mean  _ you didn’t get any _? What did you spend the grocery money on?” Emma gaped at him, gesturing at the fancy dinner that was getting cold in front of them. He scoffed. “I hope you’ll do better next time,” he said before leaving the house, slamming the door behind him.  _

_ Emma hadn’t been sure of what to do so she had sat and waited for a moment before just eating her dinner alone, waiting to see if he would come back. Eventually he got back, toting a case of beer, shoving it into the fridge before opening one and joining at the table. She sat in the awkward silence, drinking wine while Killian grumbled about the food being cold. _

_ “Let’s make sure this doesn’t happen again,” he had said on his second beer. She nodded.  _

It hadn’t happened since, and she’s made it a habit to get the beer first the minute she’s at the grocery store.

But the more she thinks about it, the more she figures she should have known better. Moving in with someone is a learning experience anyways, or at least that’s what her mom said.  _ There will likely be a few surprises, but you know each other pretty well. It will probably just be a few little things, like keeping his toothbrush in the shower or him being a loud chewer. _

There have been surprises, but nothing is quite as simple as her mom had made it sound. When she Skypes her mom that morning, she feels like she’s smiling for the first time in a week. “Hey, mom, I’ve missed you.”

“Emma, sweetie,” she smiles back, so wide and so genuine. “How are you liking the States? How’s Killian doing?”

“I love it here, mom. It’s been a weird transition, and I’m excited to be an actual citizen and have a job so I can save up for the move. It’s a little lonely right now, but I’ll adjust soon.” Her voice sounds right again, but the words sound weird coming out of her mouth. If anything is off, her mom doesn’t notice, and she doesn’t think twice about it. “Killian is great. He’s such a hard worker.”

“And you like living with him? Is it what you expected?” The smile is still there, but her mom’s voice is serious, like she’s prepared for Emma to give her any answer, good or bad. Emma goes with the truth.

“I really do, mom. He takes good care of me. Making sure there’s enough money for food so I can make dinner and do what I need to around the house.” Mary Margaret’s brow creases, but she nods as if she needs to read between the lines. She opens her mouth to comment, but before she can, Emma continues, sensing she’ll need to be on defense for this conversation. “It’s going to be better when I get a job. Right now there isn’t much I can do besides cook and clean and stuff. I don’t mind. Plus it keeps Killian happy,” she adds with a smile.

“Okay…” her mom says tentatively. “As long as you’re happy.”

“I am,” Emma assures her.

She loves Killian, and he loves her.

Why would she have reason to doubt that?

* * *

Emma spends her days keeping the house in perfect shape, making sure everything is perfect for Killian’s arrival home, which includes food if he’s home in time for dinner, which he frequently isn’t, and checking the mail for her work permit to be approved.

Today she spends it going to the grocery store after finding her mailbox empty, again.

So she’s in the store, beer in cart first before she starts her walk through the store, getting the necessary ingredients for dinner, thinking of something Killian would like when she turns onto the next aisle and stops in her tracks when her eyes immediately latch onto a spectacular looking ass in a familiar pencil skirt.

Something flutters in her stomach, and she thinks it might be best to turn around and go down a different aisle, avoiding the brunette altogether, but she can’t seem to move, and by the time she’s able to tear her eyes away, Regina must have turned around because suddenly she’s next to Emma, smiling.

“Hello, Madame Mayor,” Emma says politely, in an attempt to keep it professional.

“Didn’t I ask you to call me Regina?” the other woman quirks an eyebrow, smiling in a way that makes Emma reconsider  _ professional _ .

“Technically, you said your townspeople call you Madame Mayor, which includes me since I live here now.”

Regina tutts, eyes grazing Emma’s body, which warms accordingly. “I believe I implied you are the exception, Miss Swan.” 

And Emma should change the subject. She really should, but instead of saying something normal, such as  _ so what brings you to the grocery store on this fine Saturday afternoon? _ or  _ have you had the pleasure of doing any mayoral activities today? _ or  _ would you like to join my fiancé and I for dinner one night? _ , she says, “As long as you’re calling me  _ Miss Swan _ , I think I ought to call you Madame Mayor, unless you’d rather me choose a different title for you.  _ Queen Mills _ perhaps? Very fitting considering your name is Regina.”

At that, Regina’s eyes sparkle, and the smile on her face unwavering as she unsuccessfully tries to look serious. The sight makes Emma’s heart stutter, and she swallows hard looking away. When she looks up, Regina’s eyes are on the beer in her cart and her smile has faded. Something about it gives Emma pause, but she flies onto defense.

“Oh, yeah, Killian doesn’t like to run out of beer. I make sure to get it first every time.”

Regina’s mouth forms a tight line, and it’s evident she’s holding back a thought. Emma wants to know what it is, but she mostly hopes Regina chooses not to say it. Or does she? She catches herself wondering what it is, that something might be wrong, but she dismisses it. Buying her fiancé beer isn’t exactly problematic.

“I see,” Regina finally says. “The man doesn’t have a great taste in beer.” She says it like it’s the nicest thing she could come up with. 

Emma shrugs, “He doesn’t like wine either. I learned that the hard way.”

“The hard way?” Emma’s eyes go wide, realizing how that sounds when Regina looks at her in alarm.

“Oh, no no no. I just mean, he was upset about it. It wasn’t _learning_ _the hard way_ so much as it was that _I could have learned it easier_.”

Regina squints at her before turning away, shifting uncomfortably. “Okay.” Emma wonders again what the woman wants to say, why she’s always holding something back every time Killian comes up. She chalks it up to some kind of unfortunate personal history she doesn’t know about. Sometimes people just don’t get along.

She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until the brunette looks back at her with a soft smile, and Emma finds herself grinning back, unable to do much else. There’s something unreadable in Regina’s eyes, something mischievous and joyful, and everything makes sense when she asks, “Would you like to come over for dinner sometime?”

Emma blushes, and she tries to hide it as subtly as she can, but she’s unsuccessful because Regina is smirking at her, which isn’t helping the blush or the tingly feeling in the palms of her hands. 

Regina’s smirk shifts back into something less teasing. “I know what it’s like to be alone…” she pauses, contemplating her words carefully. “I just thought maybe you could use a friend.” 

The offer warms Emma in a way she hasn’t experienced since her arrival in Storybrooke. The realization that such a nice feeling has been absent alarms her, but it could be her imagination. It’s probably just because she’s interacting with someone other than Killian for the first time in a while. “Thanks, I uh, I’d love that. I’ll have to check with Killian.”

When Regina nods, looking away in disappointment like this was exactly the response she was expecting, Emma pretends not to notice. “Let me know when you’re available, alright?” Regina looks at her until Emma is returning her gaze, nodding in response. “You still have my card, don’t you? Remember, if you need anything…”

“Yeah, I’ll give you a call,” Emma smiles.

“Well, Emma, I should be going. I hope to see you around more.”

“Me too, Regina. I’ll let you know about dinner soon.”

“Please do,” Regina says with a coquettish grin before walking away. Emma makes an excuse to turn around, not interested at all in the peanut butter she’s pretending to reach for.

* * *

Emma isn’t the least bit surprised that she spends the next six hours of her life thinking about Regina. She isn’t surprised that when she tries to stop, the woman finds a way to float back to her head, and she isn’t surprised that she’s happy about it.

But if she thinks about it at all, that’s as far as she lets it go. She can’t afford to fall right now and thinking about what her thoughts mean is the fastest way to trip.

Obviously she finds Regina attractive. Because she is. It’s a fact of nature, really. And having dinner with her would be perfect, first and foremost because Emma resents being lonely, and the mayor has a point. She could use a friend. While she loves Killian, he can’t be the only person she talks to. 

Cooking dinner, she lets her mind wander back to the grocery store and Regina’s reactions to Killian. Would he have the same reactions to her? She thinks she might bring it up tonight if he makes it home in time for dinner.

When he walks in the door, at seven as promised, she’s waiting for him at the door to take his coat and greet him with a kiss, loving the way he smiles at her when he notices her waiting.

If she’s anywhere else, she won’t get the same smile, but she doesn’t make that mistake often. 

“Welcome home, Killian.”

“Place looks clean,” he comments.

“Yeah, I was working on it today. I’ve also been making dinner. You hungry?”

“Of course,” he smirks. “You got more beer?” He asks, making his way to the kitchen, smile growing when he spots the new case of beer. “Nice.” He doesn’t offer her one, but she’s used to it. Not that she would want his shitty beer anyways, Regina had a point earlier.  _ I wonder what Regina’s taste in beer is like? She seems like she would like wine more though. I bet she would have appreciated the research I did. Maybe I could find out what she’s making for dinner when I get to go over there and I can bring the perfect wine. _

“Emma?”

She’s pulled from her thoughts to find Killian staring at her in disapproval. She looks away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry,” she mutters.

“Anyway, I was saying I hope you’re making something good for dinner.”

Emma nods, still avoiding his eyes as she busies herself in the kitchen. “Uh, yeah, it’s almost done. Chicken Parm, and I have salad too. I found this really nice dressing I’m excited to try. It’s got--”

“Yeah, I’m fine with just whatever we already have.”

“okay,” she says.

He waits on the couch watching sports drinking beer while Emma finishes up dinner and sets the table. He grabs another beer before he ventures to the dining room, giving the room a weird glance before sitting. Emma figures he’s still getting used to using this room, curious to see if he had ever used this table before her arrival.

She decides to ask. 

“Did you ever use this table before I got here?”

He snorts, “Not really. Maybe once or twice, but I’ve never  _ eaten _ here.” Emma nods dropping the conversation, not wanting to ask what he used it for. He smirks when she doesn’t ask, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. 

It’s quiet for a minute before Emma tries another topic. “You should try this dressing. It’s really good,” but Killian brushes right past the comment.

“Hey, so has your work permit come in yet? Did you check today?”

Emma gulps, “Uh, yeah. I did check, but it’s not here yet--”

He groans, “What’s taking so long? I mean you applied, what, last week?”

Wincing, Emma tries to explain, “Yeah, but these things take time. It’s actually not common for people with a K-1 visa to get a work visa because it can take up to ninety days. Forty-five at the earliest, but--”

“So what you’re saying is that you might not even be able to work?”

“Well, not exactly--”

“Unbelievable.”

“Killian, it might get here early. Please don’t get upset. I’m checking for it every day. I might be one of the lucky ones and it’ll come after forty-five days.”

He finishes his beer and goes to get another one in response.

The table falls silent once again until Killian suddenly slams a fist on the table, “Do you even want to work? Or are you just using me?” Emma is stunned to silence, opening and closing her mouth, trying to say anything at all. Killian’s eyes are burning into hers, and she wants to look anywhere else, but the anger in her eyes keeps them locked in place. 

“I… I would never. You know I want a job, I’ve talked about it. I… I hate that there’s nothing I can do.” His expression doesn’t change, and she swallows her apology, thinking it won’t matter anyways. She looks away, whispering it anyways, “i’m sorry.”

He must have noticed the smallness this time because he made his way over to her, kneeling next to her chair, taking both her hands into his. “I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean it. I just panicked. I’m under a lot of stress right now, with this and work, You understand right?” Emma nods, but doesn’t say anything else. “What do you say we watch the game after dinner? I’ll make it up to you.” He kisses her knuckles and grabs another beer before he sits down again.

“okay.” Emma doesn’t mention that watching  _ the game _ with him while he drinks beer won’t fix anything.

* * *

 

They’re on the couch together, Killian leaned forward, eyes on the television while Emma sits next to him, watching and trying to find something appealing about American football for the upteenth time that week and coming up empty. 

When it breaks to commercial and Killian leans back again, Emma takes her chance.

“Guess who I saw at the grocery store today,” she tries.

Killian doesn’t even try to guess. “Who?”

“Regina.”

He rolls his eyes, “Oh,  _ Madame Mayor _ . Better not let her hear you calling her Regina.”

Emma smiles, and it feels wrong with Killian sitting right next to her. “She told me it was okay.” He looks at her with a scowl.

“She said that? I’m surprised.”

“Why?” Emma holds her breath.”

“She’s just an uptight bitch, that’s all.” He drinks more beer. “What’d she want, anyway?” His blatant disgust with her confirms some kind of dispute between Killian and Regina, but it doesn’t bring her any form of comfort. If anything it just makes her more curious, but she knows better than to ask. 

“She invited me to dinner. Said I could use a friend, which is true. You’re the only person here I actually talk to.” 

His scowl becomes more aggressive as he asks her, “What’d you tell her?”

“I said I would talk to you about it.”

“Good.” He sits forward again and rubs his face with his hands, making a noise of displeasure. “At least you said the right thing.” Emma shifts in her seat, something about this not sitting right. Maybe she shouldn’t have even brought it up. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Emma.”

“Why not?” Maybe he doesn’t like the woman, but that doesn’t mean Emma has to as well.

“I mean, why  _ would _ you have dinner with her?” He asks like she’s stupid for not already knowing everything he does and thinking the same way.

She shrugs, “I don’t have any friends here.”

“You have me,” he says with a scoff.

“Well, yes, and I’m glad I have you, but it would be nice to have some other friends too. Girl friends?”

“Girlfriends?” The word sounds dirty in his mouth.

“You know. Friends that are girls. Not like--”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Well, if that’s what you want, you’re looking in the wrong place.”

Emma blinks, turning to actually face Killian. “Why?”

“Everyone knows she’s just looking for attention. She’d sleep with anybody. I doubt she could ever just be anybody’s friend. I don’t want you around people like her.”

“People like her?” she asks hesitantly, almost afraid of his answer.

“ _ Bisexual _ ,” he says the word like it’s poison, and Emma’s heart drops to her stomach. For the first time, she feels like a red flag ha planted itself in their relationship that she can’t push away like she has been the others.

Other than the obvious distress she feels at his newfound biphobia, her brain goes into overdrive, overwhelmed by the announcement that Regina is bisexual, which makes her feel ways she’s sure she shouldn’t be feeling and think things she shouldn’t be thinking. For the first time, she thinks of how freeing it would be to be with someone as open as Regina versus someone like Killian who makes her think of being trapped inside a car surrounded by rain.

Not to mention Emma’s own sexuality.

How would Killian feel knowing he was about to marry  _ one of those people _ ?

She keeps her mouth shut.

“It would be nice to have a friend though.”

Killian rolls his eyes again. It’s so dramatic that she notices even without looking at him. “Fine, Emma. If you really want to,  _ we _ can have dinner with her.” His emphasis on the plural isn’t lost on her. She shrinks into the couch, not willing to point out that technically only she was invited. He doesn’t comment further, and neither does she.

That night after he’s fallen asleep, she stares at the ceiling fan moving above her, afraid to think about any of the conversations she had today. It seems safer to stay silent, not just outloud but in her mind as well. 

A thought can be planted and not be dangerous, but once it becomes acknowledged, it refuses to be ignored. It’ll grow and spread through the mind like a disease, tainting other thoughts and taking them down with it.

Emma’s got a lot of thoughts she needs to fight off. 

Killian snores loudly next to her and she catches herself flinching, unable to shake the idea that maybe some of those thoughts have already snuck through.


	3. Day 16 - Day 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best, but I hope you like it.

After Regina gets outed by Killian’s disgusting opinion on her sexuality, Emma becomes more withdrawn, going to the grocery store when there was less people around, and otherwise only leaving the house to check the mail. Apart from Killian, she only has a brief exchange with the cashier at the store, and even with Killian, she often falls silent. 

He doesn’t question her why, but she questions herself, trying to find a way to rationalize her reticence in a way that makes Killian out to be the good guy. The best she comes up with is “he has enough on his mind,” or “some things just aren’t important enough to share,” but she won’t call it a success.

No, success would be allowing herself the freedom to think. It would be allowing herself to leave the house and do something with her day besides prepare for Killian’s night. It would be telling Killian that she’s going to be Regina’s friend whether he likes it or not. But none of those things will happen, and Emma reminds herself that it isn’t because Killian doesn’t like it, but because she doesn’t want to hear his opinions on it  _ as a precaution. _ She doesn’t want to slip up and say something he doesn’t like  _ as a precaution _ . The subject of her sexuality should remain a mystery  _ as a precaution _ . It would be best that she didn’t make friends outside of Killian and his friends, whoever they are  _ just in case  _ he doesn’t like them.

She’s the one moving into his house and into his life after all, right?

But one morning, Emma just can’t take it anymore. She feels like she’s suffocating in Killian’s house, and after he leaves for work, she decides it would be a great morning for breakfast. So she sets out on the walk to Granny’s diner, allowance in her pocket.

It doesn’t occur to her it’s Saturday, and if she’d known that Regina has every Saturday morning off and spends it treating herself to an Americano at Granny’s, she’s not sure she would have still made the same decision, but when she runs into someone head on because she wasn’t looking where she was going and feels hot coffee spilling down her front and looks up to meet Regina’s wide eyes and apologetic expression and her body feels hotter than the coffee burning her chest, she thinks it’s all inevitable.

The way they’re still standing so close for so long after the incident makes it feel that much more significant. Regina blinks a few times like she’s regaining her composure, her face flush from what Emma thinks  _ has _ to be embarrassment. The only other things it could be are the things Emma might only dream about, if she hadn’t trained her mind to deflect those kinds of things.

Regina scrambles for napkins and starts trying to clean her up, and Emma focuses on the stained disaster that is her shirt, but all she can think is of the proximity and hand placement of the other woman on her. Regina’s hand grazes one of her breasts, and it’s all Emma can do to suppress some kind of vocal reaction. She thinks something slips out, but if it does, Regina doesn’t comment.

“I think I ruined your shirt,” is all she says, sighing in defeat, one hand on Emma’s shoulder, the other stilled from dabbing a spot near Emma’s heart. She doesn’t move, and Emma doesn’t breathe.

“It’s okay, I can just go back home and change. I’m sorry about your coffee.”

Regina shakes her head. “No, no, it was my coffee. I was distracted.”

“Well, I wasn’t paying attention, so you can’t blame yourself entirely.”

“Ah, so you were distracted as well?”

“I guess you could say that. My mind wasn’t totally here.”

Regina smirks, “I see. So what were you thinking about that caused you to run into me?”

“Oh, so are you admitting that I  _ am _ at fault?” Emma asks, deflecting. The deflection is absolutely necessary, considering she had been thinking about Regina, wondering if she would somehow run into her today and wondering even more if she wanted to. She had decided that she  _ would _ in fact like to run into the woman when she had done  _ exactly _ that. Is the universe always so literal?

Regina’s eyes shine as she shakes her head, “No, Miss Swan, I am not letting you take the blame for this. I just wanted to know what had you so distracted you didn’t see me coming.”

Her voice and her word choice make Emma feel like she’s going to fall, but she stands her ground. “I believe you were the one who used the word ‘distracted,’  _ Madame Mayor. _ ” 

“You’re very aware about word choice aren’t you?”

Emma shrugs, “Just calling it like it is.” Many things about this situation are odd, namely the fact that Regina’s hands are still on Emma, the coincidence of Emma’s thoughts in relation to actual events, and the potentially intentional use of certain vocabulary, but more than any of that, Emma catches herself wondering how it is that she feels like she’s really herself for the first time in at least a week. The juxtaposition of her bold, borderline flirtation with Regina makes her wonder what it means that she’s always so skittish, like she’s walking on a floor made of shattered glass, whenever Killian’s around. 

Regina’s eyes smolder, and Emma can’t recall a time when Killian ever looked at her with half the amount of passion, even in their best moments. What does it mean that she has more of a connection with a woman who burned her with coffee on only their third ever interaction than she does with a man she’s not only sleeping with but is engaged to. The thought fully crosses her mind before she can block it, and then it’s too late to unthink it. 

One thing is clear, and it’s that she can’t see Regina anymore, anywhere. Killian may be wrong about the  _ why _ , but he’s right in saying that being friends with the woman isn’t a good idea.  _ Or is that just him being selfish? _

“Anyway, I ought to go change,” Emma says, stepping back, trying to ignore the disappointment when Regina’s hand drops from her arm. She’s going home, and she doesn’t plan on returning. The other woman looks sadly at her as she steps back again, and she’s about to give Regina a small wave when the brunette speaks instead.

“Emma, wait.” She does as she’s told, silently grateful that the interaction isn’t over. “Did you walk here?”

“From Killian’s house? Yeah, I did.”

Regina mutters  _ Killian’s house _ under her breath before getting to her point. Emma knows she’s curious as to why she calls it that and not  _ home _ or  _ my house _ or  _ our house _ because she wonders the same thing almost constantly. It never sounds right unless it’s  _ Killian’s house _ . “My house is closer than yours…” (Emma doesn’t miss the small emphasis on  _ yours _ .) “If you want a fresh shirt now, you can just borrow one of mine.”

Emma should say no. She doesn’t need to go to Regina’s house or wear her clothes or spend time with her, so she should say no. She forms her response in her mind,  _ It’s fine, but thank you. I appreciate the offer. _ She smiles at Regina and says “If you don’t mind.” 

It makes so much sense that she doesn’t even catch her mistake until Regina asks, “Have you already had breakfast?” and Emma tells her no and Regina says, “I was going to cook when I got back with coffee, so you’re welcome to join me.”

“I’d love to,” leaves Emma’s mouth as sirens go off in her mind.  _ You should just go home. It’s just a coffee spill. What would Killian say. _ But when Regina orders a new coffee for herself and another for Emma, and they start the short walk to Regina’s home, she finds herself thinking less about Killian and caring less about what he thinks. She’s allowed to have a friend. She might even be able to help repair some of the issues between Regina and her fiancé, and then they could all be friends, if such a thing is possible. The thought makes Emma smile to herself, and it’s so comforting an idea to her that she doesn’t think about how misplaced her optimism feels.

A slack jaw replaces her smile when she finds herself standing in front of Regina’s house, “Regina. Your house is huge.”

“I am the mayor after all,” she responds with a wink, opening the front door and gesturing for Emma to go first. Emma wanders in, gaping at how fancy everything looks. “You like it?” Regina smirks.

“It’s amazing. You did a great job decorating it.”

She turns to face the other woman, watching with a smile dancing on her lips, glancing away as soon as Emma catches her. “I’ll grab you a shirt,” she says as she glides up the stairs, leaving a still slack jawed Emma in her wake.

Emma wanders through the atrium, not wanting to impose on Regina’s home, while she waits on the brunette to return downstairs. It’s amazing how she can already tell how  _ Regina _ the woman’s house is, despite their few interactions. Every clean and pristine surface has personality, despite its simplicity. It doesn’t  _ look  _ lived in but it  _ feels  _ lived in as opposed to Killian’s home that  _ looks  _ lived in but  _ feels  _ anything but, at least to Emma. 

Before she can’t stop herself, she’s wondering what it would feel like to live here, and she’s suddenly so lost in the daydream that when Regina appears next to her, resting a gentle hand on her back, Emma doesn’t even jump in surprise. Instead she just smiles, preoccupied by how right this feels that she doesn’t immediately realize it isn’t.

“Emma?” Regina asks, her voice soft, as she floats almost unconsciously towards her. Emma, still succumbing to the daydream, feels herself drawn in, captivated by the way Regina’s eyes look at her like she’s another precious part of her home and the way her hand moves to rest on Emma’s waist as they turn to face each other.

She can’t stop the way her eyes glance at Regina’s lips and the way her tongue peeks out just enough to wet her lips. Regina’s eyes watch the movement, and Emma’s heart stutters in her chest. She leans in ever so slightly when she feels Regina’s hand tighten on her waist and hears her name again, more firmly than the last time, staggering out with a harsh breath, and it’s enough to remind Emma that this isn’t her reality but also enough for her to recognize that she may not be the only one who wants it to be.

She wants it to be.  _ I want this to be real? _ She steps backwards fast, alarmed at the thought. She can’t think that. She can’t want this. She’s marrying Killian. She loves Killian. Yes, Regina is beautiful, and maybe she can love her too, but it can’t be like that. There’s a line she can’t let herself cross.

But the thoughts, the  _ what ifs _ , have her worried she’s already started crossing it.

Regina stands where Emma left her, taking the shirt into both hands, fidgeting uselessly. She hands it to Emma with near silent directions to the closest bathroom. “I’ll get started on breakfast,” she mumbles as she shuffle out of the room, leaving Emma headed for the bathroom and trying not to think about how flustered the other woman looks, somehow more so than Emma when she spots her reflection in the mirror.

She splashes some cold water in her face successfully suppressing whatever feelings she just had, both physical and emotional, before redressing herself in Regina’s shirt. The minute she does, everything comes flooding back at just the smell of Regina on the shirt. As she props herself up against the sink with the heels of her hands for support, Emma thinks it’s just ridiculous. 

Ridiculous that someone’s scent can make her feel lightheaded. 

Ridiculous that someone she hardly knows can leave her so overwhelmed.

Ridiculous that someone she considers herself  _ almost friends with _ makes her feel a way not even her fiancé has managed,

Ridiculous that she’s allowing herself to consider any other option than the one that her life decisions are based around.

Emma loves Killian, and she’s marrying him. She’s going to get a job and help him earn money for their big city move where she’s going to find a job (or jobs) she loves, and eventually they’re going to make a family, starting with a baby and maybe a little puppy, just like they always talked about. 

She takes a deep breath before heading back out in search of Regina. She’ll get it together, she’ll stay for breakfast, she and Regina will be friends, but nothing more. Whatever happened earlier must have been a fluke, a runaway part of her imagination.

When she finds Regina in the kitchen, she tries to ignore the obvious double take the brunette makes at the sight of Emma in her shirt and perches herself on a stool at the island counter. “How do you like your eggs?” Regina asks, turning her attention back to the stove in front of her. 

Emma shrugs, “However. I’m not usually picky.” Regina snorts. “What?”

“Nothing,” Regina mutters.

Sensing the awkward tension growing, Emma nods, ready to redirect. “So what else are you making? Or is it a surprise.” Regina just smirks over her shoulder, continuing the silence but easing the tension. 

Regina’s handed her a plate (more like a platter if she’s being totally honest) full of breakfast foods (eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast), and Emma doesn’t hesitate to dig in with gusto. Other than the couple of times she’s gone out, this is the first time she’s eaten something she didn’t prepare herself. She must have mentioned something about it outloud because suddenly Regina asks her, “You cook every time?”

“Yeah, don’t you?” Emma asks after swallowing a bite of pancakes.

“Well, yes. But I live alone. You have a fiancé. He never cooks for you?” Emma shakes her head.  _ Should he? _ Regina doesn’t look surprised, her eyebrows quirking briefly before letting it drop.

They eat in silence until Regina finally speaks. “So, the first time we talked, you told me about how you met Killian.” Emma gulps, wanting to be rid of the dread pooling in her stomach or at least understand where it’s coming from. Logic tells her it has something to do with Killian, but how messed up would that be? “But we didn’t get to talk much more than that,” Regina continues. “Do you have any big dreams for living over here? I figure that you must have to engage in such a long term, long distance relationship. Unless he really is that worth it…” She adds, keeping her voice consistent and smile in place.

“Oh, well yeah, I’ve always wanted to live over here. My dream would be to live in New Orleans, but there’s a lot of big cities in the US that I’d be okay with.”

“I’m gathering you don’t like small towns…” Regina comments, a challenge in her eyes.

Emma laughs out a breath, “Sorry to burst your bubble,  _ Madame Mayor of the Smallest Town in the US Probably _ , but yeah, I love big cities. I mean, don’t get me wrong, small towns are nice in their own ways, but they’re just not for me.”

Regina nods, brow creased, “So, New Orleans?”

Grinning, Emma launches into her passionate spiel about what she considers to be The Best Life Plan. “Yes, it’s so interesting and full of culture and I can’t imagine it would ever get boring. I don’t like too much routine, so it would be perfect. I could have several odd jobs to spice things up, and then if I ever changed my mind, there would be plenty of room for that.”

Regina nods along with Emma’s excited ramble, her smile almost entirely gone. “Have you talked to Killian about this?”

Emma winces. “Uh, I mean, yeah. He said that was his dream too, which is one of the reasons our relationship is so perfect…” She trails off, picking at the food on her plate to avoid the eyes she feels boring into her.

“But…?” Regina prompts.

Emma hesitates.  _ But lately he hasn’t seemed interested in any of that. In anything. _ But she holds the words back. Once she says them out loud, especially to another person, there’s no going back. “It’s nothing.”

Regina’s sigh is nearly inaudible, but Emma picks up on it anyway.

“What about you?” Emma asks, in an attempt to veer the conversation away from her.

“Me?”

“Yeah, what led you to being mayor? Do you have any big dreams outside of Storybrooke? Or in Storybrooke?”

Regin chuckles, “Of course. I love being mayor, but I don’t want to do it forever. I grew up here, but I went to college in Boston for political science. When I graduated, the town needed a mayor, and my mother nominated me. It was her dying wish that I become mayor.”

Emma gasps softly, “Regina, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know…” she drifts off, at a loss for words. Regina waves her hand.

“Don’t apologize. It was a few years ago, and it wasn’t sudden. She wasn’t exactly pleasant either. We didn’t always get along.” 

“Why? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Emma, it’s fine. Let’s just say, she has very conservative social views and expectations. She wanted me to marry young and have children sooner rather than later.”

“Oh, do you not want children?” Emma asks surprised. Regina laughs, shaking her head. “What?”

“You asked me what my big dream is… that’s it. I want a family. Not right this minute, but I definitely would like a future with children. The issue that my mother had with my dream is that I would prefer my future to be with a woman.” Emma nearly chokes on her coffee. “Are you surprised?”

“Uh, no, sorry. I just… swallowed wrong,” she lies. She isn’t surprised, given Killian’s big reveal, but the direction of this conversation is starting to make her wary. If she opens up about her sexuality to anyone, Killian could find out, and that’s the last thing she wants, especially if Regina is somehow connected. “I understand.”

“You do?” Regina’s eyes are wide with what she recognizes as hope, and Emma knows a thing or two about hope ( _ thanks Mom _ ). Not that that helps her decipher anything about the specific look she’s getting from Regina. Not that she really needs the help though. The look in Regina’s eyes now is the same as the feeling Emma got when she found out Regina’s bisexual, only without Killian’s bigotry.

“I, uh…” Emma wonders if she should just tell her. Its harmless community bonding, after all. But instead of saying,  _ yeah, I’m bisexual _ , she says, “Yeah, I really want a family, too.” And really it isn’t any less true. She wants kids more than anything, and if it meant giving up big city living (as much as she believes it wouldn’t have to), she would do it. 

She glances up at Regina, expecting to see a reaction to Emma’s commentary on family rather than sexuality, but instead she sees a different expression. Something like shock, irritation, pity, and Emma shoots her a careful look back. “What…?”

She gives a quick shake of her head, suddenly busying herself with the dishes and trying to drop the subject, but Emma isn’t having it. She needs some kind of answers. No doubt this has something to do with Killian, and she’s gonna get to the bottom of it. “Regina, what?” Emma tries again. 

The brunette doesn’t turn away from the sink; she just continues to clean dishes, her back to Emma. So Emma gets up, shuts off the water, and Regina glares at her. 

Emma glares back, unwilling to stand down.

“Fine!” Regina says, drying her hands off and turning to her. “Why are you with him?” Emma’s mouth opens in surprise, shocked by Regina’s assertion and unsure of what to say. She’s looking at Emma with exasperated eyes that make her feel like she’s missing something.

“What do you mean? I love him.”

Regina opens her mouth for a minute, eyes closed before her mouth does the same. She shakes her head again. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to explode like that. You have a right to love whoever you want, and if you love him, that should be enough.”

She’s back to washing dishes and Emma is back to gaping at her, trying to understand what just happened and why. She thinks she ought to defend Killian, but it’s only an afterthought to rationalizing Regina’s blunt questioning of her relationship with him. “Regina, I--”

“It’s fine, Emma. You don’t owe me an explanation. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She steps back from the brunette as a means to give her space, but all it does is cause her anxiety, immediately wishing she felt the closeness they had shared in the hallway earlier. She doubts herself and steps forward again, her hand resting on Regina’s. The other woman stills at the sink and turns to look at Emma. 

“What do you want me to say?” Emma asks, her voice small like it is when she talks to Killian, the only difference being that when (if) Killian hears the small version of Emma’s voice, he doesn’t stop for it, but Regina smiles at her and says, 

“I’m here for you, Emma. When you need me.”

And her eyes are so intense, and the word  _ when _ is burning it’s way through Emma’s mind and her hand on Regina’s arm feels like too much but also not enough, and she staggers backwards, trying to say thank you, but instead saying “Maybe I should go.”

Regina looks back to the sink, “I understand.”

Emma nods in response, managing a wave before heading out the front door and down the street. It isn’t until she’s halfway home that she realizes Regina had her back turned.

* * *

 

As soon as Emma gets home, she crashes onto the couch face first, but it smells like Killian so she groans and gets back up, deciding to go upstairs to his room instead.  _ Their  _ room.

She’s lying on her side of the bed where her pillow smells like her pillow, not like him, and she wonders when she started being irritated by Killian’s scent. It’s not like that it’s bad, it’s that she can’t stand it even though it was fine yesterday. She sniffs a few times, trying to pinpoint the issue when suddenly all she smells is Regina. She’s still wearing her shirt.

Emma sits up and pulls the shirt over her head. It’s just a simple t-shirt, but it’s the softest one she’s ever felt and it smells like her. She stands to go wash it, but instead she finds herself pacing the room, feeling the shirt in her hands, and hoping that if she washes it, it won’t smell like Killian.

For a minute she debates not washing it yet and holding onto it for a little while, but she figures that would only raise suspicions, especially if Killian ever found out she had Regina’s shirt and spent time at her house. 

She ends up tossing it in the wash. She needed to do a load of laundry anyways.

* * *

 

Monday morning, Emma finds herself walking through the hallways of the City Council building, looking for Regina’s office, the woman’s shirt wrapped inconspicuously in a grocery bag.

It takes her a few tries, but eventually she ends up in front of a closed door that reads  _ Madame Mayor _ . She knocks once and hears a muffled, “Come in,” from the other side so she pushes the door open and slides in, closing it behind her.

Regina is at her desk, typing furiously at a keyboard, so concentrated that Emma makes it all the way to her desk before the woman notices her, a smile breaking out on her face when she does. “Emma.”

“Hi,” Emma waves shyly. They just smile at each other for a moment before they both start to talk at once.

“I should a--”

“Uh, I brought--”

Emma laughs. “You go ahead,” Regina tries.

“No, you go ahead.”

“Very well.” Regina takes a deep breath. “I want to apologize for the other morning. It isn’t my business, and I shouldn’t have been intrusive. I don’t know what Killian has said about me, but I’m sure you know by now that we don’t get along. For whatever reason, he…” Regina waves her hand. “It isn’t important. What is important is your happiness. Something you know much more about than me.” 

Emma shrugs awkwardly, surprised by her own nonchalance, but she brushes it off in favor of setting the wrapped up plastic bag on Regina’s desk, cringing at how sketchy it looks. “I brought your shirt back. I washed it, so sorry if… uh, it shouldn’t smell bad.”

Regina gives both Emma and the bag a curious look. “Why’s it in a grocery bag?” 

Emma shifts on her feet, pretty sure that “so Killian won’t see that I have your shirt” isn’t a good answer. “I didn’t want it to get dirty” isn’t any better but it’s what she ends up saying. Regina nods but seems to accept it.

“Oh, Emma. I wanted to ask you… Have you reconsidered my dinner invitation?”

“Actually yeah. Killian said it was okay if we have dinner with you.” Regina squints, making another one of  _ those faces _ , but she isn’t saying anything. She thinks loud enough, only Emma isn’t a mind reader. “What?” 

Regina’s expression remains unchanged as she shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Fine,” Emma mumbles, allowing the room to fall silent between them again. Whatever unspoken miscommunication that’s between them upsets the atmosphere almost every time they interact, and at some point Emma thinks she might snap and demand that Regina tells her. A small part of her mind wonders if that’s why she hadn’t invited Killian to dinner. She wonders if the silence between them is always filled with Killian.

“I’ll let you know about dinner, okay?” Regina nods, and Emma says “Thanks again for the shirt,” before retreating from the office.

* * *

 

When she walks through the front door, the atmosphere differs from when she left, and when she hears Killian’s footsteps coming through the kitchen, it makes sense, only, he’s never home early.

“Hey, sweetie,” she says, walking to greet him with a kiss,

He dodges the affectionate gesture. “Where were you?”

Emma panics, wondering if she should mention Regina at all, but she does need to mention dinner with her anyways, so maybe this is a perfect opportunity, if she can find a way around the shirt that is. “I, uh…”

“Well?”

“I was at the mayor’s office.” Killian rolls his eyes, placing his head in his hands, “Killian, no. I was asking her about the work permit. To see if she could help speed the process along.”

“And?”

“She’s going to look into it.”

Killian scowls, but says “Okay” before walking back into the kitchen to grab a beer. Emma takes the opportunity to follow him and ask the next question to get it out of the way.

“Speaking of the mayor, when did you want to have dinner with her?” Her voice is small again, and she hates it. She smiles at him, as a reminder that she’s excited for the event.

He looks right at her but doesn’t catch it, “Oh, that’s still happening?” Emma’s heart drops. “I guess we could do it this weekend. Maybe next Sunday night cause I’m off work.”

Emma pulls her strength together with a nod, “Hey what if we invited her over instead of us going over there?” 

Killian scoffs at her. “Why would we do that?”

“I don’t know. She’s just been really nice. Maybe we should give back…”

“If it means you get your work permit faster then why not?” Killian takes another swig of beer. “I don’t really want her in my house, but whatever.”

Emma shrinks back a little ( _ isn’t it  _ our _ house? _ ), “Oh, sorry. I didn’t… If you don’t want to, it’s okay…”

“No, you want to so we’re gonna do it.” He shoves past her, narrowly avoiding her shoulder.

“Killian. If you really don’t like it…” she tries again.

“No, it’s too late, that’s the plan. Next Sunday night, she’ll come over here.”

“okay.”

Killian lounges in the living room, taking another long sip of beer and looking at Emma expectantly. “So, what’s for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any and all feedback is appreciated :)
> 
> also! i have to give a shout out to The Big Uneasy by SkinnyProcrastinator which is an SQ fic I LOVE and am always inspired by. It gave life to the beautiful headcanon of a carefree New Orleans Emma. You can read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4099504/chapters/9235252).


	4. Day 31 - Day 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO first, I want to thank everyone for all the comments and feedback. I LOVE YOU GUYS, and I love sharing my writing with you guys. Next, I want to respond to what some of you have said collectively. 
> 
> This fic wasn’t originally supposed to be this angsty, and it wasn’t even going to have an abusive Killian, but when I planned it, this is the direction it went, so I hope you’re are okay with it. I know that it’s really upsetting. I hate Killian here as much as you guys do. I also added the abuse tag.
> 
> A few answers to some questions: Emma’s phone does work in the U.S. now, I just haven’t written her using it. I don’t know about the driver’s license, but I’m gonna go with no, she doesn’t have one. And most importantly, she’s gonna open her eyes soon!! Like, starting now, but at the same time, it’s gonna get worse before it gets better. I hope you guys like what I have planned (you know what I mean by like). All the angst will be worth it in the end. That, I can promise.

Emma spends most of the week planning for the big dinner and trying to calm her nerves about it. Killian and Regina don’t seem to like each other at all, but she’s never seen them interact. There may be a shred of hope for repair, and Emma plans to find it.

When she invited Regina to dinner, it had been over the phone, and although she couldn’t see the other woman, she could hear the lack of enthusiasm in her voice when Killian came up in conversation.

Killian, on the other hand, hadn’t been as friendly. He made it clear to Emma that this was _her_ dinner, he wasn’t happy about it, and he wasn’t going to help prepare for it. She did her best to smile, telling him that it was fine, but now that the day has come, she wishes he’d been considerate enough to help her out, or at least be in the house.

It’s Sunday afternoon, Regina is supposed to arrive in three hours, Emma still has a list of things to do, and Killian is nowhere to be found. She hasn’t heard from him since this morning when he brushed by her with an “I’ve gotta but I’ll be back before dinner.” He was out the door before she could question it.

She doesn’t miss his presence, but she would have appreciated the help.

Between cleaning up the house and preparing dinner, she’s checking her phone for messages from Killian. Nothing turns up, and where she was originally complacent, she’s grown frustrated with her fiancé for bailing. He’s supposed to be hosting this dinner with her.

The closer it creeps to six o’clock, the more Emma checks her phone, waiting to hear from either Regina or Killian and speculating which of them will arrive first.

When the doorbell rings at exactly six and a smiling, albeit nervous, Regina stands on the other side, Emma is completely unphased. Of course she gets here before Killian. A small part of her panics, wondering if this is some kind of setup to start some kind of drama with Regina, but she squashes the thought as soon as it comes. That would be stupid.

“Regina, hey,” Emma smiles, at least half of her nerves dropping at the sight of the woman in front of her, somehow dressed both modest and sexy. Red really is her color. “Come on in.”

Regina steps inside, taking in the home around her. Emma’s unsure if Regina’s ever been over here, but the way she’s eyeing the place seems like she knows nothing within the vicinity belongs to Emma. She can almost see the words behind Regina’s eyes: _Killian’s house_. “Sorry, I would have brought wine, but uh…” she trails off with short glances around, and somehow Emma knows what she’s looking for.

“He isn’t here.” Regina’s eyes freeze on Emma’s. “Yeah, he should be back soon. He had to run out and grab something at the last minute,” Emma says through a tight smile. “But anyway, it’s fine. I did research on some wines that would be good, so I have some. Would you like a glass?”

“Sure,” Regina says, following Emma into the kitchen.

“I also have some hors d’oeuvres. I tried making a few new things that looked really good.” Emma stops, looking at everything she’s set out, nervous and self conscious. “I know it’s a lot, but I wasn’t sure what you would like. Sorry if it’s too much.”

“Emma, it’s fine,” Regina says as she tries one of them. “ This is delicious. You did a great job. And I love that you have options, especially since you didn’t know what I liked or if I was allergic to anything.”

“Oh god, _are_ you allergic to anything?”

“No,” Regina says with a chuckle. “I was hoping to make you feel better.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I misunderstood.” Emma examines the few bottles of wine she picked out, hoping that Regina likes what she’s picked out. She selects one and opens it, pouring them both a glass.

“You don’t want to wait for Killian?”

“He doesn’t like wine anyways. And it’s his own fault for being late,” Emma shrugs. She hands Regina the glass, second guessing herself when she sees the look on Regina’s face, somewhere between satisfaction and concern. “Should I?”

“He’s your fiancé, Emma. It’s your call,” she takes sip and Emma decides it doesn’t matter, and they drink their wine in silence while Emma stares at her phone. It’s twenty after, and Killian is still missing. She thinks about calling the station to see if he ended up going into work, but she decides against it. She’ll just call him in a little bit.

“Do you want a tour of the house? That’s a thing people do right?” Emma asks to break the tense silence.

Regina snorts, “Maybe, but I’ve never done that.”

“Sorry, I know it’s a dumb idea.”

“It’s not dumb, Emma. If you want to, you can. Clearly, you’ve put a lot of effort into cleaning this place up. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to show it off.” Emma nods slightly, prompting Regina to ask, “Do you?”

“Not really. There’s not much to see. The place is very…” She stops, trying to find the right word. She’s torn between masculine and unpleasant, but she chooses to not use either. “ _Killian_.”

Regina takes a long sip of wine before asking, “Shouldn’t it be very _Emma_ too?”

 _Yes._ The answer is right there, but she holds it back, afraid of what else this conversation could lead to. Instead she shrugs again, takes a sip of wine and walks around the kitchen, looking for something to do. She’s at the point of the meal prep where she only has to wait. No point in cleaning since she might still need anything she has pulled out.

“Do you need help with anything?” Regina asks, suddenly beside her, and Emma’s eyes go wide at the proximity.

“No, I don’t think so.” She watches as Regina steps over to where Emma has the wine and turns one of the bottles ever so slightly, mistaking her observation for correction. “I’m sorry.”

“You apologize an awful lot,” Regina comments with a smirk.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says seriously.

“Emma…” She looks away from the brunette, embarrassed. She hadn’t realized her apologies were so frequent. Does she usually do that? “Is everything okay?” She glances at her phone instead of Regina. No messages.

“I should call Killian.”

As she grabs her phone and heads to the living room, she hears Regina’s sigh.

* * *

 

The first call goes to voicemail.

If they weren’t supposed to be hosting dinner, she wouldn’t call again, but the circumstances almost demand it, so she calls again. This time he answers on the second ring.

“Emma, what? I told you I was busy.”

His tone shocks her. She knows he isn’t thrilled about the whole plan, but he ‘s acting like it’s completely unimportant. “I know, but it’s just… Regina got here at six, like I told you she would, and it’s not much longer ‘til dinner’s ready…”

“What. you think I’d bail on dinner? I told you I’d do it,” he says, trailing over her words as though they mean nothing.

“Well, I just…”

“You just what? Emma, don’t be so impatient. I was just about to leave. If you’d have waited instead of called me you would know that.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, hating the way the word sounds in her mouth. What is she really apologizing for? How could she have known that he would text her? If he was going to do it, he would have done it before when he knew he was going to be late.

“Yeah, okay.” he sighs before she hears the call disconnect. The stain of his voice echos through her mind. She know Killian isn’t looking forward to dinner and had likely been procrastinating his arrival, minimizing the time he’d have to spend around Regina, but the irritation in his voice felt like it had been directed at her. Emma tries to hear it a different way, imagine a different reason, but with each reimagining she finds it harder to deny that she’s the problem.

This is why she doesn’t let herself contemplate these things, she thinks as she wanders back into the kitchen, unshed tears stinging her eyes. She won’t let Regina see her cry. Avoiding this conversation is imperative, particularly because Emma still doesn’t know what she did wrong. “I was thinking we could wait in the living room,” Emma says, busying herself with moving a few hors d’oeuvres plates to the coffee table. Regina starts to help, but Emma stops her with a hand on hers, avoiding her eyes. “No, you’re the guest. You wait on the couch and I’ll be right there.”

She can feel Regina’s eyes on her for a long silence before she finally agrees and sits, “Okay.”

“Okay,” Emma repeats, frantically shuffling back and forth trying to keep Killian’s words out of her mind, but they keep coming back. She thinks about other instances that made her feel the same and the thoughts crash past the dam she had built for them in her mind. Raw and unprocessed, all she can do is feel them.

Finally, she grabs the bottle of wine they’ve been drinking from and her own glass, which she downs before leaving the kitchen, and makes her way to the living room, promptly refilling both Regina’s glass and hers. She takes another gulp before chancing a look at Regina.

“Emma, are you okay?”

She intends to answer her question, to say “Killian’s late for some reason. I don’t know what his problem is,” or something along those lines, but instead she says, “I’m sorry he’s running late. I hope it isn’t ruining your evening.”

Regina makes a scoff somewhere between contempt and amusement, shaking her head, “Emma don’t be ridiculous. Killian _not_ being here couldn’t ruin my evening in any universe. This whole plan came into being because I wanted to be your friend, not his. Besides, you have no reason to apologize for him. You’re hosting a wonderful dinner and if he misses out, it’s his own fault.” Regina’s hand has made it’s way to Emma’s knee, and she wishes the could curl up in her arms and avoid this entire mess with Killian, whatever it is.

“I guess,” Emma says, feeling more vulnerable as the wine works its way through her system. “He’s probably going to be rude to you when he gets here. I’m sorry about that too.”

Regina shakes her head again, “Why do you feel the need to apologize for him?”

“I don’t know,” Emma answers without a second thought. She hadn’t even meant to, but it had come out anyways. When did it come to this? She used to hate people who apologized relentlessly or when they hadn’t done anything wrong. When had she become that person?

She can feel the tears building back up again, and Regina gasps softly when one of them escapes and rolls slowly down her cheek. She wipes it off quickly. “Sorry,” she murmurs, but hearing that word leave her mouth again only makes her cry more. “Why do I keep saying that?” she asks more to herself than anyone.

And then Regina’s wine glass is on the coffee table and she’s setting Emma’s next to it and pulling Emma into her, stroking her hair while Emma rests her head against her shoulder. She’s still fighting back tears, afraid of what could happen if Killian sees her crying. “Emma, talk to me,” Regina whispers in her ear. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Emma says again, her voice cracking.

“Shh, it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you,” and the sweetness in Regina’s voice is too much, if this keeps up, Emma’s going to start sobbing.

She has enough wine in her system that she considers opening up a little, to tell Regina that Killian was an ass on the phone and that she doesn’t feel like this is her home, and she hates that she’s apologizing for everything, but then she hears keys outside and she jumps away from Regina so fast that she’s momentarily dizzy.

The keys fall and she hears Killian’s muffled expletives through the door before they return to the lock. Emma’s heart pounds, and Regina looks at her alarmed, and it’s enough to confirm that Emma must look as panicked as she feels. “Regina, everything is fine, okay? It’s fine. Nothing is wrong,” she whispers with purpose. She picks up her wine and downs that glass before standing so she can greet Killian at the door.

Before he enters, she glances back at Regina. Is she… angry? Emma doesn’t have much time to consider it before the door opens and Killian slams the door behind him. She flinches. “Hey,” she smiles at him, hoping he can’t see the sadness she feels in her eyes. He scowls when he sees Regina and makes eye contact with Emma long enough to roll his eyes, “What’s wrong?” she asks him, even though she knows the answer.

He steps close to her, and Emma thinks he’s going to kiss her for a moment before he opens his mouth, mumbling, “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”

Emma glances at Regina, watching them cautiously from her place on the couch, “I said we didn’t have to if you didn’t want to.” He just stares at her in response, his expression mostly unreadable but his eyes are drooping in such a way that Emma knows. She knows, and she can’t believe it. He looks towards Regina, making intentional eye contact with her before crashing his lips to Emma’s, the final proof for her when she tastes the rum on his tongue, which she wishes weren’t in her mouth, or anywhere near it for that matter.

When he pulls away, her eyes go to Regina, drinking her wine and pretending to be interested in something across the room. Emma returns her attention to Killian, eyes glazed over as he smirks at her almost in a challenge to call him out before he stumbles away from her. She watches as he brushes through the living room, stopping to give the other woman a look before moving into the kitchen.

Emma doesn’t see the look, but the face Regina gives Emma after he’s gone tells Emma that it wasn’t the kind of look you give your dinner company, but if he’s as drunk as Emma thinks he is, then she really isn’t surprised. Besides, all of her shock lends itself to the fact that Killian is drunk at all. She believed he’d been doing something important, something worth being late for. Why would he go out on a Sunday afternoon to get drunk when he knows they’re hosting dinner later?

She keeps her eyes on Regina as she hears a can of beer being snapped open from the kitchen, hoping she doesn’t know he’s drunk, but if she doesn’t know now, she’ll know soon enough. Her eyes are wide as she mouths _is he drunk?_ And Emma winces, humiliated. She almost says _I’m sorry_ again, but instead she gives Regina an apologetic look before following Killian into the kitchen.

She’s barely through the door when he’s muttering about how “This place is such a goddamn mess.”

“Killian…”

“I mean, what the fuck, Emma? You ask to have someone over for dinner and you don’t even think to clean up?Do you realize how bad this makes me look?”

“Please, Killian, calm down.” She doesn’t even try to tell him that he’s making himself look bad enough on his own. “Don’t yell, please.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“I cleaned the entire house, Killian. I did. It’s only messy in here because I’m cooking dinner. There’s hors d’oeuvres in the living room… you should join us.” She moves over to him with the logic that he won’t yell if she’s close to him, but it doesn’t make him talk any quieter.

“ _Whore what_?”

If he weren’t so belligerent, Emma would have laughed, but she doesn’t. “No, _hors d’oeuvres_ , she says again. You know, like… finger foods? Kind of like appetizers?”

“Then why didn’t you just fucking say _appetizer_? Do you really need to be so pretentious about it?”

“That’s just the word for them… it’s French.”

“Well, maybe that’s how you talk over there, but you’re in America now, and we say things normally here.”

“People say hors d’oeuvres here all the time, Killian, it’s just what they’re called.” He scowls again. “Please, will you come join us before dinner?”

“I don’t want to spend any more time with that-- ( _“Killian…”)_ \-- than I have to.”

“Please, keep your voice down,” Emma whispers, growing even more embarrassed and hoping Regina can’t hear them from the living room.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he growls, and before Emma can process what’s happening, her back knocks into the counter, hard enough to knock her breath out of her. Killian’s hand grips her arm as he glares down at her, beer still in his other hand. She doesn’t try to move.

“You’re drunk,” she mumbles, avoiding his angry eyes.

“What?”

She looks up, feeling bolder than she has around him, probably ever, and repeats, “You’re drink, Killian,” loud enough for him to hear her.

For a moment, all he does is silently stare at her, eyes still angry but less fiery than before. The grip he has on her arm doesn’t let up. Finally he answers, “So?” She’s caught off guard, having expected him to try and deny it or say something else rude. She’s about to remind him that they have company when he continues. “Why the fuck does it matter. This dinner was your idea, and I didn’t want to do it.”

“Killian…” she starts, but he grips her arm tighter, pushing her into the counter more and she tries to slide around him, but all it does is angle her against the corner, which presses into her lower back. She hisses in pain, “Killian, please stop.”

“I’m doing this for you, love. You should be grateful,” he says through bared teeth. She’s glad he’s being quiet, but now she’s worried Regina’s going to walk in and see the situation. She knows what this would look like, but that isn’t what it is. Right? But she doesn’t have to worry about it much longer because the pressure leaves her back and her arm, and she takes a shaky breath in as he says. “I hope the meal makes up for this mess” and walks out the back door.

Emma doesn’t move, and she doesn’t know how long she’s been standing there until Regina is suddenly next to her, wiping a tear from her face before turning off the timer buzzing through the kitchen that she didn’t realize had been going off. She starts to apologize but catches herself. Regina seems to pick up on it because she gives Emma a smile that she doesn’t know how to return.

She feels another tear, and she’s about to wipe it off, but Regina beats her to it, her hand lingering on Emma’s face, and she’s not sure if she feels more afraid or content. “Are you okay?” Her voice is so soft compared to how Killian’s sounded that Emma is stunned into silence. It takes her a minute to realize that Regina has no idea of the events that just transpired, and Emma needs to reassure her.

When she says, “Please stop, don’t worry about me. Everything is fine,” she’s not just trying to convince Regina, but convince herself as well. And Regina looks at her like she’s about to argue, to tell her that she’s worried about her, but Emma doesn’t want her to worry. She doesn’t want her to be burdened by things that even she doesn’t understand so she insists again. “You don’t have to worry Regina. I’m okay. Everything is okay.”

The struggle is evident in Regina’s eyes, and that’s when Emma knows she insisted too much. Regina doesn’t believe her, and it’s likely she’ll never let this go, more suspicious than ever that something is wrong. In a way, Emma can’t help but be glad her friend is suspicious. The words _what if_ float around in her mind, and for the first time, she doesn’t push them away entirely.

Regina strokes Emma’s cheek a few times before lowering her hand, deciding to drop the conversation. She gives Emma a this-isn’t-over look before whispering “When you need me.”

She tries to say _thank you_ but instead she disappears to the living room where she empties the bottle of wine, tucks it under her arm and drinks from her glass in one hand, some hors d’oeuvres in the other and walks back to the kitchen. The glass is empty by the time she makes it back to Regina, who’s helping prepare dinner. “Would you like another glass of wine?” Emma offers, opening the next bottle regardless of the answer.

It’s not her best idea, but she’s too tense to care. Besides, if Killian can get drunk, why can’t she?

She pours Regina a glass when she doesn’t get an answer. “Emma, are you sure you’re okay?” she asks as she takes the wine.

She nods, drinking more. “We need to get dinner ready.”

* * *

 

By the time everything is set up at the table, Emma becomes almost hysterical. She shouldn’t have drank the wine so fast, and she’s had too much. She isn’t wasted by any means, but she doesn’t feel like she has her wits about her, not properly anyways, and she’s supposed to go out and get Killian.

“Where is he?” Regina asks.

“Oh, uh, he’s out back. He’s got this thing, like a shed-turned-man-cave or whatever.”

“For fuck’s sake, he’s one of _those_ douchebags?” Emma’s eyes go wide as they flash to the back door and back to Regina. “Sorry,” she says, even though she doesn’t look it.

Emma shrugs. “Go ahead and sit in the dining room. We’ll be there in just a moment.” She’s grateful when Regina does, just because the dining room doesn’t have windows to the backyard.

It doesn’t take long for him to open the door once she knocks, and when he does, the smile on his face is enough to make her feel a little better, even if it doesn’t remove her unease entirely. He’s looking at her like he did when they first met, and he’s _her Killian_ again. _Her_ Killian a opposed to the Killian Jones of Storybrooke that everyone finds fault with.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that, and I shouldn’t have been late. I hope I didn’t mess up your big dinner.” Emma manages a smile through her concern. His sudden acknowledgement of her feelings unnerves her, especially when she can feel a bruise forming on her back where he held her into the counter.

“It’s okay,” she says, even though she doesn’t think it is. He smiles again, and she wonders when the fluttering in her stomach had gone away at the sight of it. He leans in to kiss her, and she kisses him back, and everything is fine for the briefest of moments until she feels him pushing her back. She looks up to see his face contorted in repulsion. “Are you fucking serious, Emma? You’re such a hypocrite. You’re mad at me for showing up drunk, but here you are, fucking drinking--”

“Killian--” she tries to cut in.

“I wasn’t finished,” he cuts in, effectively silencing his fiancée. “What do you think you’re doing? You think it’s bad that I’m out drinking on a Sunday at a bar with my friends, but here you are, drinking wine in _our_ house with a fucking whore lesbian.”

“Don’t.” Emma says, brazen. It’s one thing for him to put her down, but not Regina.

He scoffs, “You’re awfully defensive. Are you sure you don’t _want_ her to seduce you?”

Emma’s heart starts at his words, and she’s glad he can’t read minds. She flies on defense, “What? No, she’s my friend. Besides, she knows we’re engaged. She’s just looking out for me.”

“Oh, so you need protecting or something?” he asks, voice rising.

“Killian, that’s not what I said.”

“It sounds like what you said. What have you told her? What have you made up? If you lie to her, if you make up some shit about me, I swear to god, I’ll--”

“Killian, please, stop. I haven’t talked about you at all. I’m sorry. Just… Can we please go inside? Dinner’s getting cold.” It’s not much of a fight, but she feels better having said more than just _I’m sorry_.

“Whatever. If I found out you’ve ever said anything to her, you’ll fucking regret it.” Emma doesn’t say anything else as she follows him inside where they join Regina at the table.

There’s a moment when Killian grabs another beer, leaving the two women alone in the dining room. Emma glances up, afraid to confirm what she sees in Regina’s eyes, bouts of concern. Even if Emma never got to open up about it, the brunette’s suspicions alone would be enough to make Killian angry, so she gives a slight shake of her head. Regina smiles at her, eyes still filled with concern, and nods her understanding. Their interaction is over by the time Killian reenters.

Dinner is filled with silence.

It starts with commentary by Regina, “This is delicious, Emma. You did a wonderful job;” an awkward reply by Killian, “Yeah, my _fiancée_ is a wonderful cook;” and silence from Emma.

In the middle, there’s stiff small talk, “So Killian, how has work been?” “Your job is literally to read my reports so that’s a stupid question.” “My job entails a bit more than reading your reports, Killian.” “Alright fine, so how is work? I’d ask Emma, but… you know.”

In the end, there’s just horrible and uncomfortable tension.

“Emma, don’t you want more wine?” Killian asks through another sip of beer. “I know how much you like drinking.” Her face goes red in humiliation, and she doesn’t answer. He scoffs. “Regina, how about you? More wine?”

“No, thank you. I still have to drive home.”

“Yeah, _you do_.” Emma shoots Killian a look that he blatantly ignores. “Maybe it;s best that neither of you have any more wine. You can’t just drink alone like that.”

“What do you mean?” Regina asks.

“I think you know,” he snorts. “Anyway, it’s about that time, so I’m going to head back out. Gotta meet up with the guys again. Emma. A word,” he stands, gesturing her to follow him into the kitchen. She doesn’t hesitate.

As soon as she’s in the kitchen, his hands are on her arms, “Look, I’m going out, and this place better be clean when I get back.”

“When will that be?”

“Does it fucking matter? I’ll get back when I get back, and this place better be clean, cause if not, there’ll be consequences. You have no excuse this time because dinner’s over.”

“okay,” she says, just so he won’t say anything else.

But of course he does.

“You better watch out,” he says, “You know how _their kind_ can be. If she’s still here in half an hour, just kick her out,” and with that, he’s gone.

Even though she shouldn’t, she pours another glass of wine. She doesn’t feel like she can face Regina just yet, so she starts cleaning in the kitchen, thoughts circling in her head. She’s overwhelmed by Killian’s voice, the way he speaks to her. She’s trying to remember the last time he said something _actually_ nice, but she can’t seem to. When he smiles at her, it isn’t like he’s happy to see her, even if she’s happy to see him. They haven’t had a date the entire time she’s been in Storybrooke, he hasn’t mentioned their wedding once and she’s been here for almost a month and a half, and he’s asked about her work permit more times than he’s said “I love you.”

It’s a problem, and the thing Emma finds to be the worst about it is that she’s set to marry Killian. Her U.S. citizenship is dependant on her marriage to Killian. How can she ever make her dreams come true if he isn’t a part of it. But then again, does he even want the same things?

She doesn’t realize she’s crying again until Regina is next to her, she turns away. “Emma, let me help you clean up.” SHe starts to help carry dishes from the dining room to the kitchen as Emma races her to do it.

“No, Regina, it’s fine. I’ve got this,” but she keeps trying to help.

“Emma, please. Let me.” She reaches for the sponge in Emma’s hand, gently pushing her away. Emma pulls the sponge back, resistant against Regina’s efforts. She thinks about Killian going to the couch after dinner, not even bothering to ask Emma if she needs help, she thinks about Killian leaving his trash everywhere and then blaming Emma for it, she thinks about how she apologized one time when he had spilled his beer on the coffee table even though she hadn’t been near it, and it’s all too much.

“Regina, stop!” Emma yells, yanking the sponge back with as much force as she can, her voice so loud that it startles her, and that’s when she breaks, dropping the sponge and crying into the sink, suddy hand covering her mouth.

The other woman reacts immediately, turning Emma to her and pulling her close. Emma wraps her arms around Regina in response, sobbing into her hair while she rubs her back. “Emma, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” Emma says, muffled by Regina’s skin against her mouth.

“I know. It’s okay.” Emma shakes her head. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

She doesn’t want to pull away, but she has to. When she does, one of Regina’s hands makes it’s way to her hair, brushing it out of her face. “I can’t talk about this,” Emma admits. She’s not ready for that. Regina seems to get that because she gives her one of those smiles that make Emma feel like there’s still hope. She opens her mouth, but Emma says her words for her, “I know. When I need you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise,” she says, and she means it. She’s still hoping it won’t come to that, but she knows she can’t keep up the denial. She lets Regina help her a bit, and they’re washing dishes together when Emma turns back to Regina. “I know you told me not to, but I really need to say that I’m sorry for Killian’s behaviour tonight.”

“I’m not,” Regina says without hesitation.

“What?”

“He showed his true colors tonight, made an ass of himself. I know he’s your fiancé and you’re my friend and I ought to be nice, but I can’t. I want what’s best for you, Emma. You deserve a real happy ending.” She’s looking at her like she knows the secret to her future, and Emma has to tear her eyes away, not sure what Regina is trying to tell her. “You believe that don’t you?”

“Sure,” Emma says, full of emotions she doesn’t know how to explain and thinking of things she can’t sort out. Regina leaves shortly after helping Emma tidy up, giving her a smile that only adds to the complicated emotions she’s experiencing.

The minute Emma’s alone, she breaks down again, heading straight for bed, too emotionally spent to be awake any longer. The thoughts are still circling, and all Emma can manage to think clearly is that this probably isn’t as complicated as she’s making it out to be.

Obviously, the visa complicates things, but she tries to imagine this situation without the visa, but when all she can imagine is choosing Regina over Killian, she has to stop herself. Maybe that’s the reality that ehe could have chosen had she already lived here.

But she doesn’t live here.

She’s engaged to Killian, who’s spent so much time and effort into getting her here and keeping her here. Killian who loved her once like she was the best part of his life. Killian who pushed her and yelled at her. Killian who charmed his way into her charming parents life with just a silly joke. Killian who insults her only friend about something he doesn’t realize they have in common. Killian who hates Regina.

Regina, who makes her feel warm.

Regina, who she drifts off to sleep thinking about.

* * *

 

She wakes up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Killian hasn’t come home.

Even though she isn’t surprised, really she isn’t, she cries anyways, not understanding how he could do this to her. She’s always hated girls who thought they could change the person they’re with, but she feels herself becoming that person.

The only thing stopping her is an impossible question. Would she be changing him back to the Killian she thought he was, or, is that a Killian that never existed?

But then above it all, she finds herself asking a question even bigger. Is she fighting for Killian or for a life in the U.S.?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I have to make another shout out to another awesome creation. [This video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OVRk_587aI&index=36&list=PLWfagMFqvKyMvIeGhGf4zwQgRRzK_Mgnb) kills me and gives me life and it definitely fueled my feels while writing this chapter and I think you should check it out.
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated!


	5. Day 46 - Day 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw derogatory language and slurs, abuse (verbal/emotional/physical)
> 
> I know you guys think Killian is depressing, but this is angst after all. If it helps, I have the whole fic planned out already and you're going to like where it ends up, I promise.

Since the big dinner, Killian spends more and more time out of the house, or at least it seems like it to Emma, but maybe she’s just running out of things to do. Every now and then, she goes out by herself for lunch and makes small talk with Ruby at Granny’s or stops by Regina’s office for a quick  _ hello _ , but it always leaves her wanting more.

Her allowance doesn’t get her very far either, which doesn’t help, especially since she’s started saving most of it behind Killian’s back, just in case.

One night at dinner, they’re eating in silence, something Emma has had more than enough of, so she says, “I wish you could be home more. It gets really lonely, and I’m running out of things to do.” She gives him a small smile across the table that he doesn’t return.

“Well, if you got a job…” he starts.

Emma sighs, “Killian, you know I want a job more than anything right now, but I haven’t been approved for a work permit yet.”

With a roll of his eyes, Killian says “I thought you said it would be 45 days. It’s been 47.”

His specificity throws her off.  _ Has he been counting _ ? She clears her throat, “It said it could be anywhere from 45 to 90 days, if at all. It’s not common to actually acquire a work permit on a K-1 visa. Remember? We talked about it.”

He just shrugs, talking through a mouth full of food, “Well, if you aren’t working, at least you can plan the wedding.”

It’s the first time he’s mentioned the wedding since her arrival, and the word sounds foreign in his mouth but hearing it takes her back to the proposal. It feels like so long ago, separated by a handful of months, a move across the ocean, and a completely different versions of themselves.

_ “Emma. I want you to marry me.” She was stunned. She carefully watched his smiling face on the computer screen, trying to scrutinize how serious he was. “I know it’s crazy, but I just feel like this is right. You want to move here, permanently. We want the same things, and I really believe this could work.” _

_ “You’re serious?” _

_ “Of course I’m serious. I love you. I want you to marry me. We can have a big wedding. We’ll plan the whole thing together, because I hate when couples forget that it’s about both of them, and not just one of them. It can be our dream wedding. Our dream marriage. If you’ll have me that is. What do you say?” _

At the time, she had only known one thing to say, because only one thing made sense.  _ Yes _ . She had told him yes in her boldest, most excited voice, and he had smiled wider than she’s ever seen. The weeks before her plane brought her back to him, she had been overjoyed, ready to see that smile again, the one he gave her when everything was it’s best.

But she hasn’t seen it since.

And now, she’s at a loss for words.

She wants to ask,  _ I thought we were going to plan it together? _ But she can imagine his scowled response  _ You know I have a lot going on right now. You have all this free time. _ She wants to say  _ I thought you would be more excited about this than you are _ , but she doesn’t. Imagine his response to that. He’s acting as though he couldn’t care less about their wedding, their marriage, or  _ her _ . She gets it. He’s busy, he’s working for the both of them, but does that really mean he needs to sacrifice all the efforts that go into his wedding and his fiancée?

She walks the line carefully. “You’re right, but I’ve been waiting on you to plan anything.” He blinks at her, expression blank. “I’ve actually been waiting to talk to you about a few things, like, where you want to have it? If you had any locations in mind that is. Or--”

He cuts her off with a stoic, “I don’t know. It’s your wedding.” She frowns at him, remembering the way he had talked about  _ their _ wedding when he had proposed, but now it’s  _ her _ wedding? Just like it’s  _ his _ house? Pronouns had never given Emma stress until she and Killian became a  _ we _ , not that she feels like they are. “You are still planning the wedding… aren’t you?” He asks, frowning back at her.

She opens her mouth to answer, but catches herself, hoping he isn’t going to be mad. He shouldn’t be. He’ll understand right? When she talks, her voice comes out squeaky and unconfident, but at least it doesn’t sound as small as it has been. “I am, but I... “

“You what?”

“I don’t know the town. Or anyone. I want to plan, but I don’t really have the connections or the resources, which is something I thought you could help me with since you’ve been living here. I don’t know caterers or venues, what kind of budget we’re working with, not to mention invitations. I don’t know where to start…” She trails off, hoping he’ll come swooping in to help her out.

She really should know better by now. 

He sighs deeply, putting his fingers to his temples, and he’s about to say something when Emma feels the need to get one more word in. She asks in a whisper, “How do you expect me to do this alone?”

But her reluctance doesn’t deter him as he looks at her, not the least bit amused, and says, “Maybe your dyke friend Regina can help you. If she knows anything about weddings that is,” he adds with a scoff.

Emma has had enough. If this marriage is going to work, he can’t continue to insult her only friend in the country. She holds back all hesitation and concern of his thoughts and asks, “Why are you so mean to her? Do you even know her?”

He scoffs again. “She’s a bitch lesbian, what else is there to know?”

“There’s a lot to know! She’s more than just her sexual orientation. She’s the mayor, she’s a human being, she has hobbies and dreams just like everyone else in the world, she’s kind, and most importantly, she’s my friend. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being gay, bi, or anything. Love is love,” she finishes strongly, pleased with her assertion.

Killian just gives her a shitty look, hating that she doesn’t hold the same opinion as he does, but under it all, he still looks smug, like he’s going to knock her right back down, and it’s evident in his voice when he says, “Well what do you know?”

She answers without pause, head held high. “I’m bisexual.”

There’s a beat of silence before he mutters, “Shut up. Don’t be stupid.”

She just looks at him, unwilling to back down. This is a part of who she is, and she refuses to put herself back in the closet just because she’s getting married. He meets her gaze again with a scowl, and they stay like that, locked in a stare down while he waits for her to back off and apologize. When she doesn’t, he pushes again, “If that’s true then why are you marrying me and not some cunt licker?”

Somehow his vulgarity still surprises Emma. She gapes at him. “Killian, are you serious? I’m marrying you because we’re in love, remember? I know we haven’t gotten to spend a lot of time together since I’ve moved here, but I still love you. Nothing has changed. I’m the same person I was when you met me. I still love grilled cheese, and sleeping in, and watching movies while cuddling on the couch. I still want to move to a cool place like New Orleans and have a family. I still love you, and I’m still bisexual. All of those things make me who I am… they make me the person you fell in love with.”

She doesn’t break eye contact the whole time, trying to convey the message with her eyes as well as her voice and her words. Her eyes are stinging with tears she doesn’t want to let fall. She doesn’t want to look weak, especially not after how good she feels standing up for herself, forgetful of how rewarding it is. Her eyes plead with his, unwavering and cold, but she waits for them to soften.

They don’t.

“If I’d known you’d wanted to fuck everyone I wouldn’t have bothered,” he says as he pushes up from the table, his chair grating harshly against the floor, and walks out. She isn’t shocked when she hears the door slam just minutes later.

She waits a few minutes before cleaning the kitchen, and finally lets the angry tears fall.

* * *

 

They go a few days without talking. Killian coming home from work, drinking the beer Emma makes sure to keep stocked for him, and joining her for dinner, before going out back or to the couch or just out. And Emma doesn’t mind his absence because she’s still mad at him. Even if she goes all day without much human interaction, more tense silences are better than listening to his insults.

He’s the first to cave and break the silence, speaking while she’s cooking dinner one night. “Emma,” he comes up from behind her and pulls her into his arms, “I shouldn’t have insulted you like that. I’m sorry that your feelings got hurt.” He leans down to kiss her, and she lets him, smiling at the way his hand plays in her hair, but part of her thinks she’s only allowing it because she’s missed intimacy and contact from  _ anyone _ . 

“It’s okay,” she says, even though she’s sure that it isn’t. His words have replayed in her mind on repeat, but  she likes to believe she’s a forgiving person. She’s almost afraid to ask, but she does it anyway. “And Regina?”

He makes a face, “What about her?”

“Are you going to apologize for insulting her?”

He sighs, “Fine, since you’re so upset about it, I’m sorry that what I said about Regina crossed a line. I’ll be careful what I say from now on.”

Emma squints at him. His voice sounds sincere, but his phrasing feels off. When he kisses her like he hasn’t since their first week together, she loses herself in it, skepticism replaced by hope. He grins at her when he pulls back. “I’ve missed that. How about we eat dinner and spend some time together tonight, huh?”

She smiles back and nods, finishing up dinner while he grabs a beer and pours her a generous glass of wine. He chats with her genially while she cooks, helping her with a few things, goofing off every so often. They eat dinner next to instead of across from each other, and he smiles the entire time, complimenting her cooking and telling her  _ I’m so glad you’ve moved in _ and  _ I’ve loved having you around _ and  _ I’m sorry that work has me so busy _ and  _ I’m sorry you’re always so lonely _ and  _ I love you. _

It’s everything Emma expected it to be when she made it over here. Everything she’s been missing for the past few weeks. When they finish dinner and he pulls her onto the couch with him to watch a movie, she feels all her anxieties fading away. Maybe it was just a rough patch. Maybe it can be like this all the time. Maybe things will be better when she has a job and citizenship. Maybe he’ll change when they get married. 

During the movie, she hears him softly snoring, and she smiles to herself when he actually snuggles her in his sleep. She’s watching the movie drawing lines up and down his arms with her fingertips, enjoying his closeness for the first time in forever when his phone goes off on the coffee table. She dismisses it. 

But then it happens again.

And again.

When it keeps going, she debates waking Killian up, since it might be urgent, but she turns her head back to see him sleeping soundly, and he’s just looked so tired lately that she doesn’t want to ruin this for him. He could use the sleep.

It buzzes again, and something is pulling at Emma as she thinks again,  _ it could be important. _ She’s never been one to snoop, but if she can see that it’s not important, she can put her mind at ease and let Killian continue napping. If it is important, she can make sure Killian wakes up and tends to whatever it is. If anything, she can silence his phone. But he might be angry with her.  _ But it could be important, _ and if it is, wouldn’t he be more upset if she didn’t wake him up?

Finally she decides to look, so she grabs his phone, surprised when it isn’t password protected. The phone goes off once again in her hand, and she opens the latest notification on instinct, wincing when she realizes that he’ll know she’s opened the messages, important or not. 

She’s in the middle of coming up with an excuse when her eyes focus in on the phone in her hand, going wide when she realizes what she’s looking at.

The first thing she sees is a woman, naked as the day she was born, posing seductively for the picture. At first, she’s too shocked to take in much else, but when another message appears beneath it ( _ I hope you like ;) I took these special for you _ ), she scrolls up to find more nudes.

Her instant assumption is that this woman, whoever she is, has the wrong number, but when she scrolls too far up, she not only finds that Killian has been actively texting her, but he has been reciprocating her sexts. Once she starts, she can’t stop herself, almost convinced that this isn’t real life. 

She sits up, careful not to rouse Killian. Her curiosity trumps her morals and she keeps looking, learning that the woman’s name is Milah (the number is saved in his phone as Paul), but she’s most frequently called  _ love _ and  _ babe  _ and  _ angel _ and  _ gorgeous _ , while Emma’s referred to as  _ her _ . When she learns that they’ve spent late nights together, she stands, pacing the room.

Killian is cheating on her.

Killian is cheating on her and somehow it explains so much but opens up too many questions to answer anything at all. 

Staring down at the phone in her hands, she remembers that he’ll know the messages have been opened, but something even worse occurs to her. If he’s cheating on her, talking to another woman and not erasing his messages, why wouldn’t his phone be password protected. If it was, all Emma would have known is that Killian had a lot of messages from Paul, and she wouldn’t have thought twice, unable to explore further. If Killian wasn’t hiding this, did he want Emma to find it?

She doesn’t want to talk to him about this. She really doesn’t, because whether he wanted her to see the messages or not, he’s going to be mad at her for looking, for not minding her own business. But on the plus side, he’s been asleep for long enough for the alcohol to have mostly left his system. Still though, she doesn’t know how he’ll react, and she doesn’t want to talk to him about this.

But she can’t let this slide. 

He’s her fiancé after all. And he loves her. Right?

She gently shakes him awake, and he stirs a little bit before she tries again, a little more rough. He grumbles and tugs her back onto the couch with him, and if her heart weren’t pounding it’s way down to her stomach, if none of this were happening, she might have found it cute. He buries his face in her stomach and tries to doze off again, but she pulls herself free, standing again. “Killian, no. We need to talk.”

That wakes him up.

“What?” he grumbles, more out of irritation now that sleepiness. 

She tries to explain, but the words aren’t coming out. She’s stuttering about messages and no passwords but is failing to make a single coherent sentence. His eyes are all confusion, but then he sees his phone in her hand and they become irate.

“Emma, what did you see?”

She’s sure he already knows, but she keeps babbling, trying to get control of the situation. “It was an accident. I mean, it  _ wasn’t _ , but it really was, cause I wasn’t trying to see anything, I just thought  _ what if it’s important _ but I didn’t know--”

“Emma, what did you see,” he says, voice more firm than before, levelling out in anger.

“--your phone just unlocked, and it surprised me and then the messages were  _ right there _ and I wasn’t expecting it because I thought there would be a passcode but it just  _ opened _ , and I panicked--”

“Emma,” he says again, voice shaking, on the verge of exploding. “Give me the phone.” Emma steps back, her hold on the phone tightening. She’s managed to stop rambling, but remaining calm is no longer an option. Killian is moving toward her, hand out, eyes on fire, and all she can do is shake her head, petrified into silence. “Now.”

She looks down at the phone before suddenly Killian’s hand is gripping her arm while the other tries to pry the phone from her fingers, and she’s too shocked to fight him on it, but his grip on her arm makes her grip on the phone tighter. He yanks on her fingers so hard that they go slack, and in the brief moment of silence where Killian looks at his phone, Emma makes sure he didn’t break any of them.

The silence doesn’t last long because he suddenly seizes her shoulder, shaking her, voice rising, “What did you see?” She opens her mouth, and nothing comes out. He shakes her again, harder, and if his hold on her wasn’t so tight, she would have fallen down. She tries again to talk, but she isn’t sure how to tell him. The next time he speaks, his voice raises to a yell, startling her as he demands, “Goddammit, Emma, tell me what you saw!”

This time when she tries to answer, a sob leaves her mouth instead of the silence that seems to have swallowed her. He shakes her again, and it isn’t until she feels the coffee table breaking underneath her that she realizes he pushed her into it. He’s glaring down at her and she tries to pull herself up, wincing when her hand snags on a jagged edge of the wood. Killian has stopped yelling at her, but the rage in his eyes fills the silence.

“I didn’t see anything,” Emma manages, her voice smaller than ever. She shouldn’t deny it. It’s what he wants. But more than anything, she just wants the situation to be over, and if denial will get her anywhere but here, so be it.

For a moment he just stares at her and she feels herself shrink under his scrutiny. She thinks he’s going to fight more, but instead he turns to leave. “Clean this shit up. It better be gone by the time I get back.” 

She doesn’t say anything as he leaves. Her submissive silence was probably all he wanted anyways.

After the door slams, she counts to ten before sinking to the ground and sobbing into her hands. She keeps asking herself how she could have avoided this, and she catches herself every time, trying to think over herself to say  _ I didn’t do anything wrong. This is all Killian’s fault. This was unavoidable. _ But every time, the same thought beats it out:  _ if I didn’t mess up then why do I feel like I did? _

She catches herself making excuses for Killian when she knows he doesn’t deserve them. She thinks she’s doing it out of habit, and she wonders how she’s made it this far, reminding herself every time that it hasn’t always been like this, and really, she couldn’t have known it would get to this point.

She thinks about the other week at dinner, when he was drunk and she rationalized his violence because of the alcohol. She remembers thinking about it later, hoping there wouldn’t come a time where she said  _ he’s done it before _ , but she finds herself thinking those same exact words right now, followed by  _ and he wasn’t even drunk this time _ . 

Her thoughts reach a new point where she feels like she can make all the decisions she needs to. She doesn’t have to put up with this. She’s strong. She cleans up the mess and decides to just go to sleep. She’ll handle this in the morning, do what needs to be done. 

But when the sunlight beams through and she wakes up in the bed alone, the events of last night surface and her hope and courage slip away, replaced by fear and anxiety. She has no reason to get up, so she doesn’t. 

Silent tears slip through her eyes, and the last thing she thinks before she falls back asleep a string of excuses:  _ but he’s my fiancé. but he loves me. but he’s only done it one other time. but he’s a cop. _

* * *

 

Emma’s spirits lift significantly when she finds out that Killian is going to a weekend retreat a few states over. She’ll have the house to herself, and although she spends most of her time around the house and/or alone, it feels like a totally different experience without Killian’s presence.

He leaves her with a, “You know the drill. Hope that work permit comes in,” before walking out the front door. It’s the most he’s said to her in days, something she’s less grateful for. While what happened isn’t something she wants to discuss, an attempt at an apology or even acknowledging it at all would make her feel moderately better about it.

Her first day alone, she realizes that she’s keeping after the house and preparing food like Killian is going to walk through the door any minute, and she keeps having to remind herself that he isn’t around and she doesn’t need to be so particular. It’s interesting how she catches herself on things she never knew she did, and it hits her that since moving here, certain mannerisms of hers have altered.

It can’t be coincidence that she notices the small changes in the wake of Killian’s absence.

Her second day alone, she tells herself first thing in the morning that she can do whatever she wants, so she watches movies and takes a nap and doesn’t clean the house, and by the time she would usually start making dinner, she decides she wants to be anywhere but home. Breaking routine frees her from the traps her mind seems to fall into.

It’s a nice day out, so she goes on a walk, and really, she thinks she’s never made a better decision as she breathes in the fresh air, loving the way the dusk lighting makes everything look tinted in gray, a cool breeze clearing her mind, freeing her from the burden of the thoughts that have been eating at her. She lets her feet carry her as she surrenders to the atmosphere.

She doesn’t think twice about it until she finds herself standing in front of Regina’s door, arm outstretched, finger on the doorbell.

She pushes it before she considers how weird it might be, but when the door opens and Regina breaks out into a wide smile at the sight of her, Emma doesn’t feel weird about it. She gives her a shy smile, “Sorry if I’m interrupting anything…”

“No, no, not at all. I was just about to cook dinner. Have you eaten?”

“No, but… I don’t want to bother you.”

Regina shakes her head, “Don’t be ridiculous, Emma. You’re welcome here. I’m just surprised to see you, that’s all.” She reaches for Emma’s hand to lead her into the house. She looks back at her as she closes the door. “Not that that’s a bad thing. I’m glad you’re here.”

Emma follows her into the kitchen. “Thanks for inviting me in.”

“It’s my pleasure, really. Wine?” Regina asks, pulling two glasses from the cabinet. Emma nods watching Regina fill them. They both take long sips before Regina turns her attention back to preparing dinner. “So, what brings you over here tonight?”

“I was taking a walk. You know, Killian’s out for the weekend, and I wanted to shake up routine a little bit.”

“Oh?” Regina asks casually, but Emma’s sure she’s more interested in what she’s saying than the vegetables in front of her. She drinks more wine as she watches Regina cutting them up.

“Mhmm.” She takes another sip, deciding that this wine will only do her more good than harm. “I was actually cleaning yesterday and doing everything like he was going to show up home from work before I realized he wasn’t going to be there.”

“Do you miss him?” she asks, her mouth a tight line.

“No,” she answers automatically, and Regina looks up at her in surprise, even though her eyes tell Emma that they knew she would answer that way. “I mean…” Emma starts, thinking that maybe she shouldn’t sound so ungrateful, but really, if he were here, she wouldn’t be drinking wine in Regina’s kitchen right now. “Actually, nevermind.”

“What were you going to say?”

“I was going to make up some bullshit to make me sound like a better fiancée, or try to come up with something about him that I do miss, but I’m pretty sure there’s nothing,” she admits, drinking more of her wine. Regina fills the glass again with a smirk.

“Care to elaborate?”

And Emma does. She starts with the horrible routine and Killian’s expectations, telling her about how much she hates the pressure of the house being clean when all he does is mess it up. She tells her about the way he talks, and constantly nags her about the work permit, making passive aggressive comments and unrealistically thinking that the world’s existence feeds his needs and no one else’s.

By the time they’re at the dining room table, they’ve shared one bottle of wine, and Regina’s opening the second while Emma starts into the issue of the wedding. 

“He expects me to plan this whole wedding  _ by myself _ even though I don’t know anyone or any of the businesses, and it’s mostly annoying because he used to call it  _ our _ wedding, but apparently it’s become  _ my _ wedding, like he’s not going to be a part of it somehow. Sometimes I just wish that were true,” Emma adds under her breath, and the confession surprises them both. “I, uh…”

“It’s okay, Emma. You don’t have to apologize.”

“You know, that’s another thing I hate. I never used to apologize, and now I do it all the fucking time. I think it’s Killian’s fault. He just makes me  _ so mad _ .”

“Tell me how you really feel,” Regina quips with a smirk.

“Is that a challenge Madam Mayor? I’ll do it, I swear to god.” Regina shrugs, amusement filling her eyes. “The man is a  _ homophobe. _ If he makes one more biphobic comment about one of us, Regina, I think I’ll probably punch him.”

Regina’s eyes go wide, “Us?”

“Oh shit, you’re bi too, right? He just said… and then you said… about being with a woman… Fuck, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed--”

“No, Emma. I am. I’m just-- I didn’t know you were too.”

Emma nods proudly, “Yeah, I am. He only just found out…” Her voice tapers off when she remembers his cruel words about it. She shakes her head. “If he knew I was over here right now, he’d be pissed.”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Let me guess, he thinks I’m trying to seduce you because that’s what  _ my kind _ do…”

“Something like that, yeah. And really, even if that happened, it would be stupid for him to be mad at me, especially since he’s the cheater. I’ve been nothing but faithful and he’s been off doing god knows what…” She trails off when she notices Regina’s look of horror. She wasn’t planning on saying anything about her latest discovery, but it’s too late now.

“ _ What _ ?”

“We haven’t really talked about it, but I saw some pictures and messages on his phone by accident. They were enough conclusive evidence for me to believe he’s seeing someone on the side.”

Several emotions flash across Regina’s face in the seconds that follow: disgust, anger, sympathy, until finally she’s just shaking her head with the kind of disbelief you can only have if you’re really not surprised at all. “Emma, I am so sorry.”

She doesn’t really know what else to say, so she just sips her wine and takes another bite of dinner, “This is delicious, by the way. Thank you.” Her voice sounds small in a different way than it does with Killian. She lets all thoughts of him drift from her mind so she can enjoy this night, her new favorite since her arrival in Storybrooke. She looks at Regina smiling at her, and everything feels okay.

* * *

 

After dinner, they end up on the living room couch. They each have their own side, but their positions are mirrored, feet tucked to the side as they lean towards each other, meeting in the middle, knees brushing together. They’re on their second bottle of wine, and Emma feels a comfortable buzz from it, though she’s sure some of it has to do with the woman next to her.

“This is the best night I’ve had here… probably ever,” she admits.

Regina snorts, “Good to know I can still host company. It’s been so long, I was starting to think I was bad it.”

“You’re actually amazing at it. When you get your family one day, I think you’ll be goals.”

“Goals?”

“Yeah, you know. Wife goals, mom goals. You’ll be the perfect example of it all. You’ll host dinners that everyone will love, and your kids will have the best birthday parties, and your wife will be the luckiest woman alive getting to eat your delicious food all the time and learning all your rad cooking skills.” Emma sighs, resting the side of her head against the back of the couch. “Family goals.”

Regina ducks her head, but it does nothing to hide the soft tint in her cheeks, “You’re sure I’m going to have a wife one day then?”

Thoughtless and simple, Emma’s answer slips out of her mouth too easily, “One of us has to.” She doesn’t know where the admission came from, but the regret in her voice is undeniable.

In the silence that follows, all Emma can hear is her heart pounding and an echo of her own thoughts, “You still could,” leaving Regina’s mouth too softly to be sure she actually said it.

Really, Emma doesn’t know how true that is, if it’s true at all. The plan is to marry Killian, and pulling out of it at this point seems impossible or ridiculous or both or some other word Killian would use to describe it. So much time and money has been put into this already, and Emma doesn’t want to get booted out of the country, not after she’s come so far. Besides, even if she wanted to leave and return home, she can’t. Not without Killian’s money.

She’s wondering if there’s a way around it when Regina speaks, so soft and so patient that Emma is afraid to meet her eyes. “Emma.” But she looks up anyways and it feels like the room is disappearing around her and all she can see is Regina. “If you’re unhappy, you can figure it out. You can find a way to live here, and it doesn’t have to be through him or because of him or with him. You’re allowed to choose.” 

The sincerity in the other woman’s eyes is staggering as they melt into Emma’s, and while the blonde expected to be intimidated, she finds herself entranced, overwhelmed by feelings she thought she could no longer feel. She and Regina are close enough that their knees nearly overlap, and she imagines them tangled together.

She looks at Regina, and she’s sure she’s never wanted anyone more.

“You deserve to be happy, Emma.”

She’s so  _ sweet _ and she’s so  _ perfect _ and Emma just thinks  _ I could kiss her right now _ , but she hesitates, unsure if it would be a good idea or not, nothing to do with Killian and everything to do with Regina.

The other woman’s eyes are full, dampening with tears as she passionately grips Emma’s hand, telling her about how great she is and how beautiful, telling her about what she deserves, and then suddenly Emma’s lips are pressing softly against Regina’s, cutting her off mid sentence.

Emma has her eyes closed, but she can feel the indecision the second their lips meet. Regina’s lips are everything Killian’s aren’t but always wished they would be and everything they can never be. When Regina’s lips move against hers, kissing her back, Emma wants to cry. They move in sync together, Regina’s hands taking hold of Emma’s hair, Emma’s hands gripping Regina’s sides, pulling her closer, and Emma’s body feels aflame in a way she’s never experienced.

She surrenders herself to her body and to Regina’s as her hands trace the outline of the other woman and tangle into her soft hair, as her tongue discovers the taste of the woman against her, as her mind only thinks of Regina. 

But then Regina’s hand pushes gently on her shoulder and their kisses become lighter as Regina pulls away, “Emma, wait…”

Emma opens her eyes to see Regina, eyes still closed, chest heaving and lipstick smudged, and her heart flutters. She drops her hand from the dark hair it lost itself in and lets it drop into her own lap. Conflicted, Regina’s mouth turns down and her eyes close so tightly that her brows crease with them.

For a moment, Emma only registers the sudden loss of contact and disappointment at the separation, but it isn’t long before the dread seeps in. She pulls her eyes away, worried that she crossed a line or that Regina’s upset with her. All she can think is that she wants Regina to have felt what she just did.

Regina’s fingers weave through hers, “Emma.” She keeps her eyes downcast until a soft hand is on her cheek. “Emma, look at me,” and finally she does. Regina is so close, her eyes wide and serious. “I want this. I don’t want you to think I’m rejecting you. I…” she closes her eyes again, breathing out a laugh as she says, “I want to kiss you again, right now. I want to start kissing you and never stop, but, Emma… if Killian finds out…”

“Oh.” Hearing the name of her fiancé brings her down from the high of kissing Regina just enough not only to realize what she’s done, but also to realize that she doesn’t care. This is the most alive she’s felt since being here, and she doesn’t think it’s random that it’s because Killian isn’t here. She’s looking at Regina and seeing a future worth having, someone she could be  _ with _ and not  _ for _ . 

She wishes that Regina had been the one and not Killian.

“Emma…” Regina says, hands reaching for her, trying to ground her as the force of her dilemma hits her. She just shakes her head, pulling away.

“I should go,” she says, and she forgot she’d been drinking until she stands and feels everything stirring again only making her more overwhelmed. She stops in her place and Regina takes her hand again, tugging her gently back.

“Emma, wait. It’s late, and we’ve both been drinking. I think it would be better if you stayed here.” Emma’s eyes widen at the implication. Despite how unopposed she would be, spending the night with Regina is something she’s not sure her brain could process in its current state. Regina must sense that because her mouth opens in realization and she explains with a small shake of her head, “I’ll make up the guest room, if that’s more comfortable for you.”

“Okay,” Emma agrees, her voice a normal volume, perfect albeit a bit rough, as she follows Regina up the stairs.

* * *

 

What feels like hours, but has probably only been only one, passes, and Emma lies still awake in the bed of Regina’s guest room. The buzz from the alcohol and the buzz from Regina have slipped from her system entirely, and now she’s wired by the horrific thoughts of Killian coming home early to find the house empty, Killian noticing the way she looks at Regina, Killian refusing to let her leave him even though it’s clear he would rather be elsewhere.

She slides out of bed with the intention of getting a glass of water, but she ends up in the cracked doorway leading into Regina’s room.

Much like her impromptu appearance to Regina’s house that night, Emma finds herself inexplicably compelled towards the woman, the draw more significant than some force of nature. 

When she realizes where she is and how inappropriate it is, she turns to leave, stopping short when she hears her name being muttered across the room. “Emma?” Her eyes are sealed shut so she doesn’t see Regina coming up behind her. A hand rests on the small of her back, easing her around gently to face the other woman.

She opens her eyes and they adjust enough to catch Regina’s, glowing in the dark, and that’s when Emma realizes she’s crying.

“Emma, what’s wrong?” she asks, brushing a tear away with her thumb.

Emma tears her eyes away, the answer to  _ what’s wrong _ filling her mind, filling it so completely that she’s not even sure what the right answer is. She thinks she ought to say  _ I don’t want to go home to Killian _ , or  _ I wish that I could choose you instead _ or  _ this whole visa thing is a fucking mess _ , but instead she whispers, “I can’t sleep.”

She doesn’t protest when Regina leads her to the bed and climbs in next to her, pulling her closer into her arms. Emma stiffens, wary about their position and the moment they shared tonight and all the unspoken words between them, but Regina just holds Emma, stroking her hair, and says, “Nothing has to happen.”

Emma feels herself relax into Regina, allowing her soft, comforting hands to lull her body and calm her mind. Before sleep takes her, she gently presses her lips to Regina’s neck, smiling when Regina does the same to her temple.

She can worry about everything else another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any feedback is appreciated :)


	6. Day 61 - Day 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter so far. SO MUCH HAPPENS. I hope you like it. (I changed the rating because of this chapter lol) 
> 
> tw: abuse (physical, verbal, and emotional)

Emma spends the last day of her weekend at home alone, trying to work through all her complicated thoughts and feelings and dreading the minute Killian sets foot in the door. Mostly she just sleeps. 

In theory, it’s the easiest way to clear her mind, but when she wakes up, breathing hard, thoughts of Regina’s tongue gliding down her body, her hands grasping Emma’s most intimate places, she doubts the theory. Ultimately it doesn’t stop her from sleeping, just like being awake doesn’t stop similar daydreams from creeping in.

She doesn’t see Killian when he gets back, but his suitcase is at the foot of the bed so when she wakes up, she knows he’s been there. The day goes by with more apprehension than necessary as she does laundry and cleans up and cooks dinner, and she finally sees him when he gets home from work.

He waltzes through the door like nothing happened, like they hadn’t lived in unyielding silence after the biggest fight they’ve ever had. He doesn’t mention any of it, he doesn’t say anything about the messages or what Emma saw. He just walks in and kisses her and says “Hey, love, I hope your weekend was pleasant,” and she feels nauseous. She remembers kissing Regina, and her nausea ought to be from guilt, but when the only thing she can think about is that she’d rather be kissing Regina instead of her fiancé, she knows it’s not.

She fakes a smile, knowing that he won’t know the difference, and tries not to be so surprised that they eat dinner in silence and he “goes out” when it’s over. As he leaves, he gives her a look, and it’s the closest they’ve come to discussing his infidelity, though the look says “don’t you dare call me out.”

Of course, Emma won’t.

The next few days are the same, falling back into a Killian-centric routine. The one exception is her thought process which falls so far from where it started that Emma feels more lost than ever.

For months, _ the plan _ has been to move in with Killian, get married, and start their life together. And sure, maybe they didn’t have a whole life planned out, but they had certainly talked about it enough for Emma to get attached to the idea. The only problem is now that she’s watching it fall apart, she’s too stubborn to actually consider any alternate plans. This is it, she tells herself. She doesn’t want it anymore, but this is it.

Searching for ways to force her out of the mindset she’s trapped in only grows harder the more time she spends stewing in her own thoughts with no one else to talk to, and she’s thinking of ways to break routine when she checks the mail one day to find the perfect solution.

She’s been approved for her work permit.

Finally.

The minute she finds out, she grins ear to ear, and when she pulls out her phone to call Killian and tell him the news (being the most important person, he should be the first to know), she’s surprised when Kilian doesn’t answer the phone.

It’s Regina. “Emma, hey.” The smile in her voice breaches Emma’s confusion for a moment, but it springs right back.

“Regina? What?” She pulls her phone back to discover that she didn’t even call Killian. A little voice in the back of her head whispers  _ well you did want to call the most important person _ , but Emma tries to push it out, despite knowing its truth. 

Regina’s smirk sneaks through the phone, “Did you mean to call me?”

“I just got some important news,” is all Emma says.

“And you thought to call me first?”

“How do you know I haven’t called anyone else yet?”

“Have you?”

“No…”

“See, now I know,” she laughs playfully into the phone and Emma feels her breath hitch. “So what’s this important news? And why am I the first to hear it?”

Emma doesn’t try to stop the words as they leave her mouth, “You know how Killian is… I’ll tell him later. Anyway, uh, I got my work permit. Thank god because I can’t stand being alone anymore.” She puts more emphasis on  _ alone _ than anticipated, and she’s sure it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Emma, I’m so happy for you! Have you already started looking for a job?”

“Ah, no, I literally  _ just _ found out. I haven’t looked into anything yet. Not that I would know where to start,” she adds with a nervous laughter.

“What are you doing right now?” 

Emma blinks, surprised. “I’m not doing anything, why?”

“Come by my office,” Regina says, and the way she says it has Emma’s heart skipping. Regardless of her request, Regina wants her there, and she doesn’t question it. “Do you need a ride?”

“No, I don’t want to disrupt your day. I’ll walk. If I leave right now I’ll be there soon. Twenty minutes maybe?”

“Sounds good.” A beat passes before she hears Regina inhale sharply before admitting, “I can’t wait to see you.”

Emma can’t wipe the smile off her face even if she tries, and her voice tells Regina as much. “I’ll be there soon, okay?” And as soon as she hangs up, she puts her shoes on and all but runs out the door.

Walking down the street, she feels full of energy, more excited than she’s been in weeks. Maybe things will start improving with Killian if she has a job. The voice talks again ( _ Are you sure you really want them too? _ ), but she doesn’t completely ignore it. She thinks back  _ of course I want them to _ , but she feels like she’s lying to herself so she gives up, thinking instead about how she gets to see Regina soon.

Her unusually high mood improves significantly when she thinks of Regina, and she nearly skips down the sidewalk, smiling and hoping that Killian isn’t out on patrol. She needs to tell him about the permit, but it can wait. She doesn’t need him ruining her mood, or questioning why she’s going to see Regina. 

When she finally walks into Storybrooke’s City Hall building, she pushes all thoughts of her fiancé aside, her body buzzing with excitement. 

When Regina opens the door to her office and smiles at Emma, taking her hand to pull her through the threshold, the buzz becomes a full on flame. The door clicks shut behind them, and Regina runs her hand along the length of Emma’s arm, eliciting a shiver from the blonde. “Hey,” Regina says, her voice sexier than Emma remembers.

“Hi,” she answers, trying to hide her blush behind her hair, but Regina takes a hand to her chin, lifting it up to meet Emma’s eyes. Her heart stops when they meet. She tucks the hair she was using as a shield behind her ear, and asks, “So, uh, what do you need me for?”

The look Regina gives her is nothing short of suggestive, but she answers seriously, “You had important news… I also have important news.” 

Regina runs her hand up Emma’s arm again, as if looking for any excuse to touch her, not that she’s complaining. Not that she could. Her words feel stuck in her throat. She has to clear it before she asks, “Important news, huh? What might that be?” She catches Regina’s hand when it nears her wrist, lacing their fingers together. Regina lets out a light gasp in surprise, her eyes smoldering.

“I have a job for you. If you want it that is,” she says, stepping closer.

Emma honestly thinks she might pass out. “What might this job be?”

“My assistant.”

“Don’t you have a secretary?”

Regina just shrugs. “So, do you want the job or not?”

“Of course,” Emma breathes out. “But are you sure you need me?” 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else.” Emma’s head is swimming, and before she can stop herself, her lips are on Regina’s and she slides her fingers through the mayor’s belt loops to tug her closer, bringing their bodies flush against each other.

Regina responds to the kiss with a smile as she brings her hands into Emma’s hair, moving their lips together before pulling back. “Not that I’m complaining,” she starts, her eyebrows knitting together, “But are you sure you want to be doing this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else,” Emma says before bringing their lips together once more.

They don’t talk about what it means, and if Regina thinks their developing relationship will be a problem for Emma’s new job, she doesn’t voice it, and Emma doesn’t ask. What they  _ do _ talk about is the job itself, all Regina’s personal opinions on Emma’s life, their relationship, and Killian, slipping through the lines.

“I know this seems a lot like favoritism, and I suppose that in a way, it is, but I didn’t want you to end up working somewhere terrible. I wanted to ensure that you were earning enough money for yourself, and that your payment would come in a form that would make it yours. As opposed to someone else’s. Since you don’t have a bank account, you’ll be getting paper checks so you can cash them. It will be your money to manage.” 

Emma lets out a breath of relief. That was something she hadn’t even considered. “Good thinking.” She doesn’t say anything, but the thought of earning her own money lets her believe she can find another option outside of Killian.  _ Maybe _ . Another voice in her head (or maybe it’s the same, just playing devil’s advocate) says  _ are you sure you want to? _

She isn’t sure. 

Part of her wants to hope, and maybe still does, that everything with Killian will improve with her having a job. Or that things will get better when they have their wedding. But every time she feels hope, she remembers the texts on his phone. She remembers the way the table broke beneath her and the way his hands felt when they gripped her too hard. She remembers the way he looked at her when she came out to him and the way he scowls at the mention of Regina. She remembers, and she doubts.

In her most positive moments with her fiancé, the moments when everything felt okay, or when she thinks back to seeing joy in his eyes and feeling the thrum in her chest, before she came here and saw how cold he could be, she believes in him and in their relationship, until Regina slips into her mind, wiping away any positive feelings she has about Killian, which pale in comparison to even her most neutral feelings about Regina. Feelings that are anything but neutral in any given circumstance.

Before Emma leaves the mayor’s office, Regina walks her to the door, which Emma resists the urge to push the woman against, and takes her hand again. She’s inching closer, and Emma’s head is spinning. She ought to ask about the other night, about what Regina’s thoughts are on kissing Emma, but instead of asking about it, she does it, melting into the woman’s soft lips, which move to leave a trail along her jawline, eliciting a moan from the blonde. Regina pulls back with a smirk, before leaving Emma one final, lingering kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Eight AM.”

“Right,” Emma says, clearing her throat. “Eight AM.”

“I look forward to it.”

* * *

 

Emma’s body burns like fire as she walks home, grateful for the brisk Maine air to cool her off before she sees Killian. She certainly doesn’t want to raise any suspicions.

Fortunately, he acts like nothing has changed when he finally comes through the front door that night. He gives her a generic greeting: a grunt meant to be  _ hello _ and a chaste kiss short enough that she doesn’t have to taste his lips on hers or return the kiss. After kissing Regina earlier that same day, the thought of kissing Killian makes her cringe, like Regina’s the one she’s cheating on.

He grabs a beer from the fridge and leaves the kitchen with a “let me know when dinner’s ready” to wait in the living room, sprawled on the couch. Emma sighs the minute he’s out of the room, but she doesn’t wonder where it came from. She already knows.

When she finishes dinner and calls Killian to the table, she considers telling him about her new job and the work permit, but she’s sure it’s going to piss him off somehow so she waits until a little ways into the meal to bring it up.

“I have good news,” she starts, trying to fill her face with a smile. He doesn’t return it as he just looks at her expectantly with impatient eyes. “I got my work permit today.”

She didn’t expect him to smile, but she did expect him to be at least a little happy. He just mutters “thank god.”

“I know,” she agrees, trying to keep the conversation level. “I was starting to get anxious.” Killian resumes eating, not commenting further. She decides to keep the announcements coming. “ _ And _ I already have a job.”

At that, Killian stops chewing to stare at her, his face an unimpressed scowl as he snorts, “Where? McDonald’s?”

Emma’s nerves hold her back from pissing him off with a roll of her eyes and a reminder that Storybrooke doesn’t even have a McDonald’s. She’s surprised at how normal her voice sounds when she finally admits, “No… at the mayor’s office.”

“What?” He isn’t happy but Emma persists. 

“Yeah, Regina offered me a job.”

“Of course she did,” he mutters.

Emma heard him clearly, but she still asks “What was that?” to see how he would react.

“Nothing.” They fall back into silence, allowing Emma to acknowledge the tension between them, hovering like it’s holding back something huge, keeping them at an emotional distance from each other. Is the tension driving Killian or protecting Emma? What happens when it shatters?

“Listen,” Killian suddenly starts, “So I was thinking we could just skip having an actual wedding, save a lot of money, and just go to the courthouse. Sound good?” He doesn’t look at her for an answer as he resumes his meal. He misses Emma’s blank stare in his direction. He misses the crease on her forehead as she tries to work out why he lied and said he wanted a big wedding if he was just going to call it off in favor of a quick trip to a legal building. He misses her looking away, ultimately confused as to why he’s marrying her at all. She doesn’t ask, and she’s not sure she wants to. 

When she hasn’t said anything, Killian glances back at her. “Emma.”

“Yeah, fine,” she hears herself saying, dropping the conversation. She really doesn’t have the energy to talk about it. She musters what she has to ask herself  _ why am I still marrying him _ ? It’s rhetorical but her mind seeks out the answers anyways, but by the time dinner is over and the night is coming to another silent close, she’s utterly overwhelmed and somehow even further from the answers she needs.

She shouldn’t marry Killian, and even if she doesn’t, she can’t stay with him forever, but she doesn’t know how to leave him and stay in the U.S. She thinks about Regina telling her that she could find another way but finding this way was hard enough.  _ Regina _ . Another reason to stay. She doesn’t want to leave Regina.

She thinks about the brunette for the rest of the night until sleep takes her over.

* * *

 

When she wakes up the next morning, Killian’s still asleep, and Emma rolls her eyes as she sneaks out of bed and gets ready, quietly so she doesn’t wake him. Fortunately, she doesn’t, and she leaves him a note in the bathroom before she leaves, just in case he forgot about her job.

She sighs again on her way out the front door, smiling an actual smile for the first time since leaving Regina’s office the previous day. It makes her walk pass quickly, and before she knows it, she’s facing Regina’s office door, fifteen minutes early. Should she open the door? Knock? 

“Someone’s eager, I see,” Regina’s voice comes up from behind Emma and the blonde spins around to meet her dark gaze.

She opens her mouth to protest but technically, the woman has a point. If she hadn’t have walked so fast, she would have made it on time, and if she hadn’t been so excited, she wouldn’t have walked so fast. “Well, yeah,” Emma mumbles in defeat.

“It’s been a few months since you’ve worked, so I can imagine finally having a job is something you’ve been looking forward to.”

“You could say that,” Emma says as she tries to ignore the blush creeping across her face. Regina certainly doesn’t as she gives the blonde a knowing smirk and slides past her to unlock the door to her office. Their hips brush and Emma’s heart stutters.

Regina closes the door behind her as she walks in and takes the chair behind the mayor’s desk. The woman raises an eyebrow, but Emma only shrugs, “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Well, I have paperwork to tend to as well as a few meetings. Answering emails, cleaning the office, taking phone calls…” Regina walks around the desk running her finger alongside it until she’s standing right in front of Emma, nearly between her knees. “So, are you going to give me my seat back or am I just going to have to sit on your lap?”

Emma swallows hard, her mouth suddenly dry. “Would you?” she hears herself ask, wincing as the words leave her mouth.

The other woman just smirks again. “Do you want to find out or do you want to pull up a chair? I don’t mind either way.” Honestly, Emma wouldn’t either, but she moves out of Regina’s seat to drag another one over, inching it closer without even think about it while the mayor starts checking her emails. “Suit yourself,” she comments with a wink.

Emma clears her throat, “So, uh, what exactly am I going to be doing?”

“Just stay where you are for now. I’ll let you know when I need you.”

The blonde fidgets in the chair. “Isn’t this going to get boring? Are you sure I can’t help you do something? I don’t know. I could clean?”

Regina turns to give Emma her full attention, “Your job is to keep me company, and gather enough information about what I’m doing that you can talk about it to Killian or to your parents or to anyone in town, okay? I want to help you.” She places her hand on Emma’s, and the blonde turns it to lace their fingers together. “Do you understand?”

She nods, “Yes,” and she does. She may not know how to go about leaving Killian, but she knows that money is the most important step, and without Regina, who knows where she would be financially, besides as a burden to a man she doesn’t think she loves anymore. Emma looks from their hands to Regina’s eyes, so full of admiration that she falters at the sight. Her eyes flicker to the brunettes lips. “I…” but she’s not sure what she wants to say. The only thing she’s sure of is that she wants to kiss her again, but it probably isn’t allowed.

As if reading her mind, Regina smiles and leans in to press their lips together. It lasts about five seconds before she pulls back, a dazed look on her face. “It’s okay, Emma,” she says before turning back to her computer, their fingers still intertwined.

* * *

 

Despite how bored Emma is for the majority of the morning, she still considers it among her top five days in Storybrooke, three of the others being the weekend Killian was away. She watches Regina typing out emails and reviewing paperwork, earning frequent smiles from the woman, who keeps Emma close.

Her stomach growling seems to snap the mayor out of her concentration. Emma catches herself before apologizing, and Regina takes her hand with an encouraging smile. “How about you go pick us up some lunch?”

“That sounds like a plan,” Emma says, almost breathless at the way Regina’s looking at her. She stands to walk Emma to the door, passing her her card. “What do you want me to get for you?”

Regina smooths down the collar of Emma’s shirt, humming in thought before tugging the blonde closer. “Use your best judgement.” Their bodies press together as Regina brings their lips together. Emma doesn’t hesitate in returning the kiss as she rests her hands on Regina’s hips, the time in which she hated pencil skirts long forgotten.

Reluctantly, they separate, only to come back together for a few quick pecks between giddy smiles. “Okay, I really should go now,” Emma says with a groan. 

“Hmm, it almost sounds like you don’t want to.”

“Believe me, I don’t.” Emma’s stomach growls again, and Regina laughs. “Traitor,” Emma grumbles.

“I’ll still be here when you get back,” Regina reminds her with another kiss. 

“I’ll hurry back then,” Emma smiles before sliding out the door and making her way to Granny’s.

* * *

 

Sitting at the counter at Granny’s Emma panics, unsure of what Regina would want to eat. She tries to think back to the dinner she hosted to recall if the woman had said anything about foods she liked, but all Emma could remember was Killian being shitty and her making too many different hors d'oeuvres. If it were her money and not Regina’s, she would buy different meals just to make sure it was something Regina would like, but it’s Regina’s money and she isn’t about to waste it.

Ruby sweeps in like a godsend. “What are you looking for?”

“I don’t know. What does Regina usually get?” Ruby smirks at her use of the mayor’s first name before taking the menu from Emma and pointing a few things out.

“So, you really got a job with her?”

“Uh, yeah,” Emma shrugs. “Why? Did she say something?”

“Not exactly,” Ruby’s face dampens. “Killian was in here this morning talking about it.”

Emma’s mouth drops, “Really? What’d he say?” She’s not at all surprised, but she can’t stop herself. Listening to other people shit talk her fiancé is a dangerous drug she won’t be able to stay away from.

Ruby just shakes her head, mouth turned in an unreadable frown. “It doesn’t matter…” she starts, but something in Emma’s face must have compelled her to continue because she adds, “He was being really shitty. Making stereotypes and stuff. Granny told him he had to leave, so he did. He wasn’t happy, not that I care.” Emma looks at her, surprised, and Ruby shrugs, unapologetic. “I don’t. He’s an asshole.”

Emma doesn’t defend him. She just purses her lips and nods.

“Look, Emma. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Emma answers, sure she knows what’s coming.

“Why are you with him?”

She knew that would be the question, but she still doesn’t know the answer. She’s about to wing it when the bell jingles over the door, and Ruby suddenly freezes, speaking instead of Emma. “Do you want grilled cheese? I’m gonna go ahead and put your order in, okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Emma says, confused. She’s about to turn and see who walked in that had Ruby so perturbed, but before she can get the chance, someone sits at the counter next to her. The minute Emma glances at the newcomer, she has no reason to look to the door anymore. 

The woman’s gaze shifts to Emma and froze. “Hey,” she says. It sounds casual, but Emma knows it’s anything but. She gives the woman a tight smile back, but says nothing, not trusting her voice to talk to the woman her fiancé is cheating on her with. Apparently she has other plans. “I’m Milah.”

Emma takes her hand, and she almost forgets that Milah knows her. “Emma. Swan.”

“Oh, Killian’s fiancée, right? You’re a lucky girl.” Emma squints at her, trying to figure out her motive. “You’re from Scotland, right?”

It’s all she can do to fight off a scoff. “England…”

“Right! England. I knew it was somewhere over there.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Killian’s told me so much about you.”

“Apparently not, if you didn’t remember I was from England. With that kind of memory I’m surprised you didn’t think we were already married.”

“That’s different. I think I would know if you were married.” 

“Killian doesn’t want a big wedding, apparently, so I don’t think you really would. Besides, if you wanted to know anything about me, where I come from is a lot more important than who I’m with.” 

Emma knows she should hold her tongue, She really should. She can see the texts now.  _ I ran into  _ her  _ today, and you’ll never believe what she said _ . But Emma also knows that Killian can’t mention anything Milah tells him without mentioning the affair, so in a way, this seems like standing up to him.

Milah straightens up, her face becoming stone like she’s prepared to ignore Emma for the rest of the time they’re inhabiting the same space, but then she says, “Sounds like someone needs her priorities straightened out.” It wasn’t the most blatant, but Emma definitely heard the emphasis on  _ straightened _ . 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Pick a side Swan. Marriage doesn’t have to be forever.”

Just then, Ruby appears with Emma’s order, interrupting what was about to be an even more unpleasant conversation. “It’s on the house okay?” Ruby says, clearly noting the tension and trying to get Emma out of there as fast as possible.

She gives Milah one final glare before starting to walk off. “Bye, Emily!” she hears from behind her.

It’s the icing on the cake, really. Especially when she  _ knows _ that Milah knows her name. She turns over her shoulder just enough for her voice to carry the way she wants it. “It’s Emma.”

* * *

 

Emma bursts through the door to Regina’s office, somehow even more livid than she was when she initially left Granny’s. “I cannot  _ believe _ !” she exclaims, slamming the door behind her. Regina jumps in her seat.

“What’s wrong?” 

She throws the lunch on Regina’s desk. “You’ll never believe who I ran into at Granny’s! I am--” Emma groans, pacing around the room. Regina starts unpacking their lunch.

“Killian?” she guesses feebly.

“Worse! Milah!” Regina raises a confused eyebrow. “The woman he’s cheating on me with!” The mayor’s eyes go wide. “Yeah! Exactly! She’s horrible. She thought I was from Scotland and that my name was Emily, but I  _ know _ she did that on purpose to provoke me. She also said a lot of other shit that definitely lets me know they’ve been talking about me.”

“Does she know that you know who she is?”

Emma flails her hands up, letting them fall back at her sides. “Who knows. Who knows,” she grumbles, dropping herself into a chair across from Regina. “Oh, and Ruby covered our food,” Emma says, passing Regina’s card back to her. “I don’t know if she knows anything, but she definitely picked up on the tension.”

While they eat, Emma recounts the entire interaction, from the minute she walked in the restaurant to the minute she made it back to Regina’s office, including her thoughts and feelings on the matter. By the end, she’s pacing beside the desk again. “But really the part that pisses me off the most is that she thinks she can get to me with stupid ‘mistakes.’”

“Emma.”

“And another thing, what the fuck do she and Killian say about me? Are they really sitting around talking about my sexuality?”

“Emma…” 

“Honestly, I’d rather them just be fucking--” Suddenly, Regina’s mouth is on hers, moving boldly and with purpose. Emma responds in equal passion, looping one arm around the brunette’s waist, pulling her closer, her body suddenly on fire, the issue at hand forgotten. Regina’s tongue slips out to graze her lower lip, and Emma can’t stop the moan that leaves her lips, rough and desperate.

Regina slows the kiss before pulling back, still close enough that Emma can feel her breath on her lips. She chases the other woman’s mouth again, but Regina moves back just enough every time. Emma groans.

“Emma.”

“What?” she whines.

“You need to calm down, okay? Anger won’t get you anywhere.”

Emma kisses Regina again, softer this time, and she smiles into it. “Mmm, it got me here didn’t it?” She runs her hands up and down Regina’s sides, frustrated by the woman’s button up, firmly tucked into her pencil skirt. She wonders if Regina would be okay if she untucked it. 

She takes the mayor’s bottom lip between her teeth, and when Regina groans and pulls on Emma’s hair, she tugs at the sides of her shirt to slide her hands under it. As soon as her hands graze the brunette’s soft skin, Emma feels almost lightheaded as her hands trail around Regina’s waist, on her stomach, inching higher, moving slow enough that she can stop her if it’s too much. But she doesn’t stop her.

She pushes Regina into the desk behind her, hoisting her up to sit on the edge, her skirt hiked up enough for Emma to stand between her legs and remain close. She palms the woman’s breast, eliciting a low moan, encouraging her hands to explore more. She moves one hand to Regina’s leg, running her fingertips from her knee to her thigh, slipping under her skirt. 

Regina whimpers at the proximity of Emma’s teasing fingers to her, and she pushes Emma away with the hand that isn’t latched into her blonde locks. “Emma,” she starts, her voice hesitant and serious. “I don’t want you to feel guilty.”

“I don’t,” Emma says before softly placing her lips back on Regina’s, before kissing her way down the woman’s neck. She trails her hand back down her leg and back to her chest to bring her focus back to the woman’s clothes, adept fingers opening her shirt button by button as she feels Regina doing the same. She feels a warm hand against her bare waist and she gasps a little at the contact, wanting more. She pulls back enough to slide her shirt off in full and watch Regina’s eyes take in her body for the first time. 

She smirks as she inches back to Regina, sighing when she feels her hands roaming her bare back. “Emma,” Regina breathes as the blonde brings her attention back to the mayor’s neck, sucking gently between kisses. “Emma,” she says again. She pulls back to look at her.

“Is this okay?”

Regina kind of laughs, but her voice comes out strained. “It’s so okay that it scares me.” She trails off, closing her eyes for a moment. “Just… Emma, please don’t do this just because of what he’s doing.” And Emma blinks, surprised. She’d never thought it would look that way, the truth being so far from it.

Emma brings her hands to Regina’s cheek, her thumbs brushing against her soft skin. “I’m not doing this because of him, I’m doing it because of you. I want you, Regina.” She hears the woman’s breath hitch in her throat as she leans back in to kiss Regina again, with all the passion she can muster. She drifts her hands through the brunette’s hair, down her side, across her hip until finally she’s ghosting along her legs again, one hand anchoring behind the small of Regina’s back, the other sliding under her skirt, nails brushing against Regina’s bare legs. 

“Is this okay?” she asks again.

“Y-yes,” Regina shivers, her hands gripping Emma with need and desire.

When Emma’s fingers slip under the final layer of clothing into Regina’s wetness, they moan in unison, “Fuck, Regina. You’re so--”

“This is all you.”

“Fuck,” Emma says again before bringing their lips together, moving slow like her fingers against Regina, teasing her and relishing every mewl leaving her mouth.

She continues until Regina is squirming on the desk, until she groans loudly before turning away from Emma’s mouth which doesn’t stop moving against her skin, “Emma, please.” Her voice is husky and urgent.

“Yeah, baby?” 

Regina whimpers again. “I need--” Emma nips at Regina’s ear, making the woman moan again, “I need you to fuck me.”

“Oh you do, do you?” Emma whispers in her ear, rubbing her fingers against the woman’s clit just enough to make her body jolt.

“Yes,” Regina rasps out. Emma smirks against her neck, sliding one finger inside her, only to pull it back out again. Teasing Regina is too much fun, even if resisting the urge to take her hard against the desk is nearly impossible. “I need you.”

And that’s when Emma gives in, thrusting not one, but two fingers inside the squirming brunette, pressing her thumb against her clit, and watching Regina start to unravel. She holds her up with a strong arm looped around her back while Regina pulls at her hair and grips her shoulder for leverage, her legs wrapping around Emma’s back while she takes the mayor on her own desk.

Regina’s making too much noise for a fuck in the office so she brings her mouth back to Emma’s, occupying it in ways to muffle the sounds that are driving Emma’s desire. She’s careful not to bite Emma, to leave any marks that would raise suspicion, but Emma’s movements against her are too distracting to keep their kissing consistent. 

Emma hovers by Regina’s ear, “Maybe one day, we can do this somewhere you won’t have to be quiet. Where you can scream my name with my head between your legs.”

“Emma… fuck,” Regina whines. 

“I want to push you over the edge, Gina. I want you to come for me,” she leans into Regina, pushing their bodies as close as she can while she rubs rhythmically against Regina’s clit, listening to her breathing become ragged and more fast paced.

“Please,” Regina begs.

“Come for me, baby.”

Regina throws her head back as she gasps, sobbing Emma’s name as she comes undone on the desk, Emma watching breathlessly, slowing her movements to draw out Regina’s orgasm as long as possible. With one final light tap, one final jerk from Regina, Emma pulls her hand away, moving it to wrap around the brunette, her cleaner hand brushing the hair from Regina’s face. 

“You’re so beautiful, Regina.”

Her chest is heaving as she wraps her arms around Emma’s neck, clinging to her for support. When she opens her mouth to say something, nothing comes out, so she presses her lips to Emma’s, smiling against them before pulling back to rest their foreheads together. Emma shifts slightly on her feet and Regina hums. “Maybe we should take this to the couch.”

“Hmm, and then what?”

“And then I can take _you_ _on_ the couch.”

* * *

 

They fall into a pattern of quick hookups in the office, light touches when there’s actual work to be done, and occasionally ‘mayor mandated detours’ to Regina’s house where they can forget the outside world the second the door closes behind them and one of them is being shoved up against it. 

No one has ever said Emma’s name like Regina when she’s climaxing, and Emma has never longed for anyone so desperately when Regina pulls Emma against her mouth from beneath her. 

Most times, they don’t talk about what it means, but Emma knows it’s only a matter of time until the conversation happens. The closest they’ve come to such a conversation was the first time in Regina’s office, them tangled together, Regina stroking Emma’s skin as she lied naked beneath her, unable to stop kissing her. She pulled away long enough to smirk, “I bet he can’t make you feel the way I do” before placing her hand between Emma’s legs once again.

Emma whimpered, “No one makes me feel like you do, Gina.” The brunette drew more moans from the blonde, biting at Regina to contain herself in the mayor’s office until she was coming again. She felt tears forming, and she closed her eyes in the hopes they would disappear, but it only made them fall. 

Regina kissed them away.

She didn’t ask what they meant, but it was unspoken and clear. “I’m sorry,” Emma muttered into Regina’s neck as the brunette tugged her closer.  _ No one makes me feel like you do. Especially not him. _ She almost said it, but she wasn’t ready for the admission, for the weight of the truth. 

But Regina knew anyways. “I know. I’ve got you. We’ll figure it out.”

The second time they come close to the conversation is today, a week later.

They tumble into Regina’s bed, discarding clothes the whole way there, and Regina doesn’t hesitate before straddling the blonde and running her hands over her chest before tracing a circle around her nipple with her tongue before lightly sucking on it and shifting to push a knee against Emma’s center. 

“I like when you beg for me,” Regina says, her voice sultry.

Emma swallows, overwhelmed by how the brunette makes her feel. She’s never welcomed vulnerability as much as she does when she’s at the mercy of Regina, and she’s never felt so fueled by raw desire. With Killian, she couldn’t wait for it to be over, but with the woman above her now, she never wants it to stop. “Regina, I want you so bad.”

“What do you want, Em-ma?” she asks, pressing more into Emma’s heat.

The blonde moans, “Fuck me, baby, please.” 

And Regina does, leaving Emma screaming her name and begging to taste her, grateful and eager when Regina gives in, allowing Emma access to her new favorite place. 

Her tongue in unrelenting against Regina as she moans at her flavor, one hand reaching for Regina’s as they lace their fingers together, the other working with her tongue as she slips two fingers inside in time to feel Regina’s walls clench around them. Her thighs close on Emma’s head, but her cries are loud enough that Emma can hear them anyways.

When the fingers pulling on her hair relax, Emma finally ceases and crawls back up to kiss the beautiful woman beneath her, relaxing her body against Regina’s and caressing the soft expanse of skin. 

For a while they just lie like this, lost in the other, and Emma’s almost asleep when Regina suddenly speaks, her voice cautious, “Emma.”

“Hmm?” Emma asks, voice heavy. She sits up a little so she doesn’t fall asleep on Regina while she’s talking. “You okay?”

“Yes, I…” Her hesitation worries Emma. She props her elbow, resting her head in her hand to get a better look at Regina, brows creased and eyes closed. Emma rubs her stomach and kisses her cheek, hoping to ease some of the brunettes nerves. Finally, after a deep breath, Regina says, “I don’t want you to marry him.”

Emma knew it was coming, but she isn’t ready for it. Her breath catches in her throat and she looks away from Regina, closing her eyes in time to miss the other woman opening hers. “It’s not that simple.”

Regina sighs, “Emma, I know you don’t want to talk about this but you have to. You want to be happy, don’t you?” 

The blonde tucks her head in the crook of Regina’s neck. “I am happy,” she mumbles against it. “Right here, with you. I am happy.”

“Yes, but Emma, this isn’t real. I mean, what we have is real, but it’s…” she trails off before heaving another sigh. “Nevermind, we don’t have to talk about this. I’m being silly.”

“Regina, no. You’re not. I want you to talk to me.” Really, Emma is far too scared for this conversation, but she hates the way Regina closes herself off, walking on eggshells around her because she’s afraid of Emma’s response. Their relationship can’t be like hers and Killian’s. It has to stay open. She resumes her former position, scooting up to run her fingers through the brunette’s hair. “Please, Regina. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She shakes her head a little before looking up at Emma. “I just wish things could be different.”

“Me too.” Emma doesn’t realize she’s crying until she feels Regina’s thumbs brushing the tears off. 

“We’ll find a way.”

And she’s not sure if that means  _ to be together, _ or  _ to keep you here, _ or  _ to get you away from him _ , or  _ I love you _ , so Emma just holds Regina closer, letting herself drift off to sleep, forgetting about what awaits her later.

* * *

 

Regina wakes her with kisses, and at first, Emma falls into the belief that  _ this _ is her reality. For a moment she allows herself to imagine that she wakes up like this every morning, except for the occasional morning when Regina sleeps in, and Emma gets up to make her breakfast in bed. 

But then Regina says, “Emma, it’s time to go. He’ll be back in an hour,” and everything is shattered. Regina kisses her again, “I hate seeing you so sad.”

Emma shrugs, “I’m sorry.”

Regina kisses her until she stops feeling sorry. “C’mon, let’s get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”

“Home,” Emma scoffs.

“You know what I mean.”

The ride back is silent, neither of them mentioning their earlier conversation. When Regina pulls up in the driveway, she turns to Emma. “Is there anything I can do? To make you feel better?” 

Emma takes Regina’s hand in hers. “Just kiss me.”

And she does.

* * *

 

Regina’s goodbye is on Emma’s mind all night as she cooks dinner, and when she isn’t thinking of her goodbye, she’s thinking about their adventures in Regina’s bed earlier. She brushes her teeth and washes her hands, but she swears she can still smell the brunette on her fingertips, just barely. She hopes Killian won’t notice.

It’s good that he doesn’t notice much these days.

He walks into the house, and Emma smiles to greet him, but it isn’t him that makes it so genuine. He gives her a curious look as he grabs a beer and follows his routine. They eat dinner in silence, but Emma can’t wipe the grin off her face, not entirely anyways, and she’s too distracted to see Killian drinking more beers than usual as he watches her carefully from across the table.

He doesn’t say a word until she’s cleaning up in the kitchen, and when he does, she jumps, not having realized he was even in there. “What’s gotten into you lately?” he asks as he takes another long sip of beer.

Emma shuts off the water and dries her hands off as she turns to face him. His expression is unreadable, but she can’t help but wonder if he knows something. But he couldn’t, because they’ve been sneaky. They’ve covered their tracks. And besides, who is he to get mad at her for doing the same thing he’s been doing to her for god only knows how many months.

She tries not to react when, after a long silent moment of staring her down with his blank eyes, he finally says, “It’s her, isn’t it?” more of a statement that a question.

“Killian, it’s… I’m just happy to be working. I was getting bored and lonely, remember? I talked to you about that.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, and you just  _ had  _ to go and become buddy buddy with the one person you know I can’t stand.”

Emma closes her eyes, sucking in a harsh breath. “Killian, please. Please don’t be like that.”

“Why not? She probably deserves whatever horrible things I have to say. She’s just a--”

“Shut up,” Emma says, and she’s surprised that it comes out firm and loud. Killian blinks at her, surprised but not in the good way.

“ _ Excuse me? _ ”

“You heard me, Killian. Don’t you dare say anything bad about Regina.”

Killian’s stance shifts, from a kind of hollow anger to something that makes him tilt his head and laugh once in a way that makes Emma’s stomach turn. She doesn’t regret defending Regina. This is for Regina. She did the right thing. This is for Regina.

He steps closer to Emma, the sinister smile curling up in disbelief. “I can’t believe you.”

Emma blinks in surprise. “W-what?”

“You’re fucking cheating on me with that  _ bitch _ .” It’s not a question. It’s an accusation. But Emma knows that he has no evidence. It’s the kind of accusation meant to provoke her, the kind that he wouldn’t have even made if she hadn’t have defended Regina.

Naturally, she doesn’t confess anything.

“Killian, what are you talking about?”

“Why else would you defend her? You’re obviously fucking her behind my back.” 

“I’m defending her because she’s my friend. You were being… not nice, and I don’t think she deserves it. That doesn’t mean I’m sleeping with her.”  _ You don’t regret defending Regina. This is for Regina. You’re doing the right thing. You’re doing this for Regina. _

“You’re lying.”

And really, nothing she’s said is a lie. Not really anyways. “No, I--”

“What, are you gonna fight me on it? Are you going to try and tell me that you’re not a whore? That you’re not a lliar? Fine, go right ahead. Doesn’t change what’s obviously true.”

Emma wants to ask him how he could possibly think that was true, for him to prove it, to reveal that he knows nothing, but instead, she finds herself saying, “You’re one to talk.”

She would know she hit a nerve without even looking at him, but she is, and she sees the way his hand crushes the empty beer can in his palm and his other hand comes up to the side of his head, which twitches, before bringing it back to his side, balled into a tight fist. She sees the fire build in his eyes, the way they darken, the way he didn’t look angry in comparison to the way he looks now. She sees the way he rocks on his feet once before taking a harsh step in her direction.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” His voice stays low and level. The lack of emotion behind it gives Emma a chill, and she forgets any other way he’s ever sounded. She tries to remember times when they were fine, but this overwhelms everything else. 

He slams the beer can onto the counter, and Emma thinks back, trying to count how many he’d had. She can’t remember. What she does remember is him leaving accidental bruises on her in the kitchen not so long ago. Was it accidental? Was it because of the alcohol? Even if it was, she remembers the coffee table too. He wasn’t drunk then, so what’s going to happen now that he’s drunk?

He’s stepping closer to her, and she’s turning to step back, slowly, not sure of her intentions and afraid of his. She’s gripping the counter with one hand while the other shakes at her side.

Killian’s steps are wider than hers, and he’s in front of her before she’s moved past the sink. A line of sweat is visible just across his brow as his almost black eyes stare her down. His hands grip her and shove hard, knocking her off her feet, but she catches herself, stumbling backwards. She tries to move, but she can’t regain her composure fast enough and his hands are on her again, holding too tight. She winces, and he shows no mercy. She looks up at him to plead but sees nothing in his eyes to indicate giving a chance. 

His cold gaze is the last thing she sees before she feels a surge of pain and everything goes black.

* * *

 

When Emma opens her eyes, it’s daytime, and she groans as she climbs off the couch, sluggish and confused. She doesn’t remember falling asleep on the couch. She’s still wearing her clothes from the night before, and her phone is dead so she peeks into the kitchen to check the clock on the oven. She’s relieved to see she won’t be late for work, but even more dazed when she sees that last night’s dishes are only half done. 

She ambles up the stairs to find that the bed is still made, which means Killian didn’t sleep here last night.  _ Killian _ . Emma flinches when she thinks about him and can’t remember why, but when she steps into the bathroom and looks up into the mirror, a strangled gasp escapes her lips and everything becomes clear.

A multi colored bruise paints the side of Emma’s face, just past her left eye.

_ Killian. _

She holds back a sob as she sinks to the bathroom floor, too overwhelmed and too afraid and too lost to know what to do.The sob sneaks it’s way out, and more follow, racking her body as her ability to breathe normally dissipates, and her vision fades out. She’s still conscious and aware that time is still moving, but she can’t tell how much. 

The thought that dying on Killian’s bathroom floor might not be too bad in comparison to what could happen passes her mind just as she feels arms gripping her, and she winces partially because her arm is sore and partially because it reminds her of last night. 

Suddenly she’s being pulled into a warm body, fingers running through her hair, another stroking her back, and she wants to ask if it’s Regina, because who else would be so kind to her, but she’s glad she doesn’t. The voice says “Shh, I’ve got you, you’re alright,” and it’s definitely not Regina.

Emma’s breathing had levelled a bit, but it’s erratic again as she tries to pull away from her fiancé, alarmed and afraid of his presence. “Emma, Emma, hey.” He reaches for her, softer than he ever has. “It’s okay, Emma.”

She calms enough to stop moving and look up at him, crouched on the bathroom floor, a staged look of concern in his eyes. He holds out his hand, and she takes it to let him lead her to the bed. She sees his bruised knuckles as he pulls his hand away.

“Look, Emma, I don’t remember much of last night. I know it wasn’t easy for either of us. I’m sorry for what I did, but I was mad. The things you were saying--” Killian stops to pinch the bridge of his nose, inhaling and exhaling sharply before continuing. Emma looks away. “You shouldn’t say those things to me. I’m your fiancé, and I love you. It will never happen again.” 

Emma wants to say  _ It already did _ , but she knows it would only classify as something she shouldn’t say, so she closes her eyes and doesn’t react at all as he leans in to kiss the place where his fist was less than twelve hours ago.

“It didn’t hurt that bad, did it?” She fights to hold back a scoff. She doesn’t say  _ You literally knocked me out, dumbfuck _ , she just sobs again, thinking about how she would call the police if the police wasn’t sitting in front of her kissing her wound. “I won’t do it again,” Killian repeats.

He tells her that he called out of work for her, that he picked up food so she won’t have to go out of the house to get it, that he wants her to stay home and get some rest cause she’s had a long night.

Emma can’t do anything besides nod.

“Please don’t be upset with me, love. I’ll do better.” He shows her flowers he bought. “I won’t do it again,” he repeats, kissing her, ignoring the fact that she isn’t reciprocating. “If you want to do a big wedding, we can do a big wedding. Does that sound good?”

“okay,” Emma says, just ready for him to leave so she can curl up in bed alone, without him there.

When he finally leaves, that’s exactly what Emma does. She thinks about everything he did and said, and she feels herself slipping into the belief that  _ Maybe he really will do better. Maybe things can be like they were. _ But then another part of her body hurts, and she reminds herself that this isn’t the kind of thing that will ever change. She knows that now.

But what can she do? She hasn’t saved enough money to fly herself home, which means she’s stuck with Killian for now. If she can’t save enough money in the next two weeks, she’ll have to marry him. Her visa gave her ninety days, and she feels like she’s wasted most of them. 

Her phone buzzes on the table next to her where it’s plugged in, and she’s not surprised to see that it’s Regina calling her. She’ll let it go to voicemail. She can tell her she was asleep, which she’ll believe since Killian explained that she was sick with a fever. 

More than anything, she wants to answer it. She wants to tell Regina everything, to ask her for help, but it would only be putting a burden on her. Regina may be mayor, but she probably doesn’t have a magical way out of this. She said there were other options. Emma wonders if that means she’s looking into them already.

She should ask her.

She wants to ask her.

She wants to see her.

The phone rings again, only five minutes later. When Emma doesn’t answer, and no voicemail appears, a text does instead. The blonde opens it immediately to read, _ Emma, I hope you’re okay. Killian said you were sick, and I’m worried about you. Please let me know if you need anything. _

Emma cries herself to sleep, leaving the message read and unanswered.

When she wakes up hours later, there’s another one.  _ Emma, is something wrong? _

And Emma doesn’t know how to answer because something is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any feedback is appreciated! thank you for reading!


	7. Day 76 - Day 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To address a comment from the last update:
> 
> Abuse in the case of K1 visas is something that I did look up. I couldn't find anything entirely conclusive without digging really deep, but I didn't bother too much about it simply because I already had the ending planned, and I didn't want anything to change that. There is likely a way to get out of such an awful circumstance, but I'm not sure what that is. 
> 
> SPEAKING OF THE ENDING. You guys are gonna love it. I think. So this is the last chapter you have to hate me for because the next and final chapter will be bringing you some happy, fluffy shit and I can't wait to give it to you. If everything goes as planned, I'll be updating Sunday. (Tuesday at the latest).
> 
> and finally, I just want to tell all of you following this story, everyone leaving kudos and comments, I can't express enough how much I appreciate you guys :')
> 
> sorry for the long ass note. I HOPE Y'ALL ENJOY

The better part of the past week, Emma spends in bed while Killian does what he can to appease his “mistake.” Emma lets him, mostly because she doesn’t feel like doing anything for her fiancé, but also because she doesn’t have it in her to try anymore. The only one who had made a mistake was Emma, being so blind to Killian’s abuse.

She needs to leave, but the more time she spends to herself, the worse everything becomes, and part of her wonders if this was his plan all along, to isolate her?

A few times, she had managed to text Regina. Short things like _no, I’m fine, don’t come over. Killian wouldn’t like that,_ and _I’m feeling better today, I should be back soon,_ and _Killian says he’ll call you if I’ll be out later than a week_ (per Killian’s request) and she even managed a _thank you so much, gina. I miss you,_ when Killian wasn’t there hovering over her.

Finally, one morning, Killian says, “Fine, Emma, I guess you can go back today. If you’re out any longer it would look suspicious. Your face looks better, but you might have to put some makeup on it.”

She wonders what would happen if she didn’t.

In the end, she does, but she doesn’t try as hard as Killian might have liked.

Before he leaves, he drills her on the “illness” she’s been suffering from at home and “what’s been happening” in the past week while she’s been out “sick.” He gets annoyed when she doesn’t take it as seriously as he does. “Emma, this is important. You _know_ no one can find out _the truth_.”

“Yeah, and what might that be?” Emma asks under her breath, less weary of consequence than she should be.

Killian gives her a warning look. “It’s in the past. I said it wouldn’t happen again so don’t put me in this position.”

_Whatever._

“What do you say?”

“I’m not a child, Killian,” she mutters. He raises his brows at her until she says it. “Sorry.”

“There you go. Don’t forget the story alright?” And then with no goodbye, he’s out the door and Emma lets out a deep breath before continuing to get ready.

She waits long enough for Killian to have driven away before heading out the door and starting the walk into town. She makes a pit stop at Granny’s to get coffee for her and Regina, to make up for how cryptic her absence was. She ducks her head so her hair falls over the left side of her face, just in case, but she grins and waves at Ruby the same as she would otherwise.

“Hey, girl! You feeling better? Regina said you were out sick all week.”

“Yeah, thanks, Ruby. It’s my first day back. I’m getting coffee as a surprise for Regina.”

Ruby smirks. “She’ll like that a lot, I’m sure. She’s missed you. Comes in here moping more than usual, but she never talks about it. I can only assume it has something to do with you.”

Shrugging, Emma pays for the coffee before taking both cups into her hands. “I’ll see you later, Ruby.”

Emma leaves and walks down the street, eager to see Regina. She’s not as worried about excuses as she thought she would be, and she’s not thinking much about them or the events that took place a week prior when she finally finds herself outside Regina’s office, attempting to knock as she juggles the two coffees. Just before the door opens, Emma catches herself wondering if Regina will be as happy to see her as she is to see Regina.

If the dramatic speed at which the door opens is any indication, she is. The glowing smile on her face further confirms the obvious, and when Emma feels the other woman tugging her into the office and into her arms, Emma can’t deny that the answer is _yes_.

“I brought you coffee,” Emma mumbles into Regina’s neck, as the hold on her doesn’t let up.

“Oh,” Regina says, pulling back enough to take the coffees and set them on the desk before returning to Emma. “Thank you.” Her eyes seem to sparkle, so bright with joy as she threads her fingers with Emma’s, pulling until their bodies are flush together before wrapping the blonde’s arms around her waist and putting her own arms around Emma’s neck.

Emma leaves light strokes on Regina’s lower back as she bridges the distance between them by bringing their lips together. Regina returns the kiss immediately, sighing softly against Emma, setting her body on fire. She kisses her like she knows she was never sick, and Emma can feel everything she’d been missing for the past week, withdrawals suddenly becoming very real as she deepens the kiss, grasping at Regina like she’s her life source.

Regina smiles against her. “Miss me?” she chuckles, breaking apart just long enough to get the words out before diving back in.

“You have no idea,” Emma does the same.

Regina hums against Emma’s mouth before biting and tugging lightly on her bottom lip. “I think I do.”

They indulge themselves in each other for another moment before Emma reluctantly pulls back. “So, what have I missed? Do you have a lot of meetings today?”

“You’re in luck. I don’t,” Regina smiles, kissing Emma again. “You know what that means don’t you?”

Emma grins, melting at the playfulness of Regina’s eyes, “What does it mean?”

“More time for you,” Regina says pulling Emma into her again, capturing her lips with her own once again. She leads the blonde to the couch in her office, and Emma is more than happy to oblige. “I’ve missed you, Emma,” she purrs, pulling at her like she can’t get enough. Emma knows _she_ can’t, and seeing how much Regina wants her just makes Emma more desperate, more forgetful.

Regina straddles Emma’s lap, kissing her as she slowly unbuttons her shirt. When it’s removed and she feels soft hands running down her arms, brushing her sides, as Regina’s mouth peppers kisses down her neck to her shoulder, Emma sighs, tugging on Regina’s hair.

The brunette grips her harder, and Emma winces, thinking that she likes pain, when it’s Regina that’s causing it. She should have known, though, but it doesn’t cross her mind until the other woman has ceased all movement, and Emma opens her eyes to find her gaping at her in a mix of shock and disgust.

Of course, the other bruises haven’t quite healed yet.

Of course, Killian wouldn’t have been worried about those.

Of course, Emma didn’t think twice about them.

But it’s too late now.

Emma follows Regina’s eyes to her body. She hasn’t examined it since the morning after, feeling sick to her stomach whenever she tried, and now that she’s looking at it, she’s surprised to see the same bruises she found a week ago, the only difference being their color, less purple, more green, but ultimately a colorful splatter across the skin, like some kind of demented artwork.

Regina’s eyes flicker from the bruise on Emma’s arm to the bigger bruise on her side before finally looking back up to her eyes and noticing the faint outline of the mostly healed mark on the side of her face. Emma wants to pull her eyes away from Regina’s. She doesn’t want to see the truth dawning on her, the tears threatening to spill in her eyes, but she can’t look away.

The other woman’s hand reaches up and gently traces the damaged skin. Her fingers graze the surface to lightly that Emma can hardly feel it, but she flinches anyways, more at the memory than anything else. “Emma…” she whispers, her voice cracking slightly through the whisper as her dark eyes seek the blonde’s, and that’s when Emma finally tears her eyes away.

It’s instinct, the way she turns to denial. Or maybe it’s habit. Was she like this before Killian? She can’t remember anymore. She takes her shirt to slide it back on, as if hiding her injuries will make Regina forget. “It’s nothing. It’s fine. I’m fine--”

But Regina has no intention of letting her get out of this, and even though the bigger part of Emma is terrified, she’s also relieved. “How long has this been going on?” Her voice barely rises above a whisper, but the anger is undeniable. “Does he--” She sucks in a harsh breath, shaking her head. Her eyes close briefly, but as soon as they open, Emma looks anywhere else. “This wasn’t the first time, was it?”

She doesn’t say anything. She can’t. It’s almost like there’s something blocking her, some kind of force, or maybe it’s fear.

Regina’s hands cup Emma’s face as she slides next to her on the couch, and Emma closes her eyes. “Emma, I don’t want to push you, but you have to talk about this. He’s breaking the law.”

She feels like she’s about to break. When she says, “But Regina, he _is_ the law,” she falls apart onto Regina, allowing the other woman to wrap her arms around her and brush soothing strokes down her back before pulling back to make eye contact.

Emma reluctantly meets her gaze, frustrated at her own weakness. She blinks back another wave of tears when she sees the firm sincerity and determination in Regina’s eyes. “I’m on your side, Emma. Don’t forget that I’m above him. Yes, he is an officer, but I’m the mayor, Graham is the sheriff, and we’re going to protect you. His job can’t protect him, and he can’t get away with this. Okay?”

At first she wants to nod. She wants to cry and nod and hug Regina and let her take care of everything. She’s right, she really is, but the entire situation gives Emma a sense of unerasable unease because this isn’t just about her and Killian anymore.

Before she can stop it, she’s crying again, blubbering to Regina about the entire situation and why she doesn’t want to do anything, at least not yet. “But Regina, he accused me of sleeping with you just to piss me off. I know he has no evidence but it’s still true and if that gets uncovered then you could get in trouble too because there’s probably a rule about not being able to sleep with the mayor if you’re her assistant, which I literally am, and obviously I didn’t tell him that. Actually, I lied to him, kind of, and this still happened anyway, but if we go to anyone and it comes up, I just--”

Regina’s lips press against hers, effectively silencing the blonde and putting an end to her ramble. She runs her fingers through Emma’s hair before pulling her into her arms again. “Emma, we’ll figure it out. I promise. You trust me, right?”

“Of course,” Emma mumbles into her shoulder.

For a moment they remain like this, close to each other, Emma seeking comfort in the other woman, never wanting to leave or do anything else, wishing the scenario away but knowing full well that it’s not going to just disappear.

Though, it could go away.

If only Emma were brave enough.

“I think you should go to the hospital,” Regina starts. “I’ll go with you, unless you’d rather go alone...”

Emma sits back, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Going alone? Then I’ll go with you--”

“No,” Emma interrupts, eyes wide. “Going at all.”

The room goes still as the two women face each other, Emma panicking and Regina pleading with her silently. Emma can feel her heart pounding in her chest. The secret is out, which means that everything will start going down, but if the cards don’t fall a certain way, everything could be ruined. Marrying Killian isn’t the only possible bad ending.

“Emma…”

“Please, Regina, just… hear me out. I know I should go, but… there’s just so many things that could go wrong. What happens if it makes everything worse? If it’s not conclusive enough, and I have to go home to Killian, he’ll be even more unbearable. I don’t-- I don’t wanna risk it.”

She tears her eyes from Regina who looks on the verge of tears. “Please, Emma. I’ll be with you the whole time. I won’t let him hurt you again.”

“Regina… I can’t,” Emma whispers. The brunette pulls her closer, holding her gently against her like she’s precious, and Emma believes that she would protect her, that she _will_ protect her. But it’s not enough to cover her fear. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Please,” is all Regina says. They spend at least an hour lying together on the couch of Regina’s office, Emma curled against her while Regina runs her fingers through her blonde locks with one hand, her other hand gripping Emma’s as if she can will Emma to change her mind.

Eventually, the brunette has to untangle herself to get to work. She presses her lips to Emma’s forehead after standing up. “Just relax. Okay?” Emma nods feebly back at her, trying to give Regina a smile. “Are you still going to think about it?” Emma nods again.

“I’m sorry for disappointing you,” Emma says, her voice barely audible.

“Emma, no…” Regina crouches next to her, brushing the hair out of her face before trailing her fingers across Emma’s jaw. “I’m not disappointed in you. I’m scared for you, and angry, and I just… I don’t like seeing you hurt. I’m worried that if we don’t act now, he’ll do it again, do you understand? I want to get you out of this before it gets worse.”

Emma opens her mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a soft cry. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Regina says. “You have every right to be scared. But you also have every right to be happy, and to fight against this.”

“Okay,” Emma says, nodding. “I’ll think about it.”

And she does.

She imagines going to the hospital and she imagines every way it could go, good and bad, but every time, her mind brings her back to the hospital denying her and calling Killian to come get her and billing him for the visit. Just because she has bruises, doesn’t mean they’ll know he caused them. Other times, she imagines the hospital identifying the bruises as abuse and calling Killian, only to have him yell about Emma having an office affair, his claims leading to an investigation that ends in Regina losing her job and Emma being banned from the country.

It’s almost stupid really, how big her fear is and how it’s stopping her from doing what she knows is best. It’s stupid that she’s paralyzed in Regina’s office, falling asleep to shut her brain off instead of getting up and fighting for her own happiness. It’s stupid, but it isn’t. It’s reasonable. But she ought to be more scared of continuing to suffer than to take a chance, right?

She fights another sob as she lets her body give in and slip from consciousness, the last thing she hears is Regina’s soft sniffle over the tapping over her keyboard.

**XXX**

She wakes up to Regina’s voice, talking on the phone. For a minute, she panics, until she realizes that it’s just _mayor_ _stuff_. Her mind immediately flashes back to where it was when she dozed off, as if falling asleep did nothing but take up time.

She thinks that maybe it helped _a little_ when she starts thinking more about the pros of going to the hospital. She thinks about the bruise placement, and the way everyone in the town always seems skeptical of Killian. She thinks about how if she went to the hospital, even if nothing happened right away, it would be unlikely she would ever have to stay with Killian again.

_Never again._

She sits up on the couch, mind made up. She can go to the hospital with Regina before Killian gets off work, so she won’t have to worry about him wondering where she is, but then she sees the clock on the wall and shrinks. She only has half an hour. She slept all day.

“Hey,” Regina says, walking over to Emma, a cautious smile on her lips. “Did you sleep well? You must have been tired,” she chuckles, sitting next to Emma, and pulling her into her, an arm around her shoulder.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You okay?”

“I…” Emma starts, but she shakes her head with a huff. Regina kisses her temple, stroking her shoulder in encouragement. “I should have gone when you said. What was I thinking?” She hakes her head and Regina kisses it again.

“It’s alright, Emma. That wasn’t your only chance. Do you want to go right now?”

“No, he’s going to be off work soon. I don’t want him to be suspicious. Earlier would have been better.” Emma chews her lip in thought. “Do you think we can go tomorrow?”

Regina takes a deep breath in, her lips in a tight line. “If you want to wait one more day, we can. But, Emma, if anything happens before then, I want you to tell me immediately so I can come and get you. I really don’t like the idea of you staying with him for one more night.”

“I know, Gina. But it’ll be okay. I think it would be better if we went when he was preoccupied. That way he can’t say anything and if something goes down, he won’t see it coming.”

“ _When_ ,” Regina corrects.

Emma nods, “ _When_ ,” she repeats, more to herself than Regina. “I’m still scared. How will you know? I doubt I’ll be able to text you the whole incident,” she winces, “or even at all.”

The other woman hums in thought. “What if we had a code word? You text me the code word when anything suspicious happens or if things start going poorly, and I’ll know to come over.”

“That sounds good…” Emma muses with a sigh. She looks to Regina with a smile, “Thanks for looking out for me. I don’t know what I would do if I hadn’t met you.”

“I could say the same about you,” Regina says, nuzzling into Emma’s hair.

“Really?”

“Mhmm.”

Emma needs to leave soon, but she doesn’t even try to _not_ surrender to the way Regina is kissing her way around Emma’s neck, nipping gently at the soft skin. “Regina,” she all but moans. She means to say _I need to go,_ but instead she says “I don’t want to go,” and she turns to catch Regina’s lips with hers, and she doesn’t protest when Regina deepens the kiss.

“If you want to stay a little longer, I can give you a ride home.”

Emma groans, “Please?” Their hands run free as Emma takes Regina’s earlier position, straddling her lap. There’s no time for anything serious, but that doesn’t mean Emma can’t have fun teasing.

She tugs on Regina’s lower lip and thinks about how she doesn’t have to worry about Killian much longer. Tomorrow, Regina is going to go with her to the hospital. Regina will help protect her and stand up for her. Regina.

Smiling against the brunettes lips, she almost lets a laugh slip through. “What?” Regina murmurs, trailing back down Emma’s neck.

“I’m just… happy? Maybe that isn’t the word for it.” Regina plays with the buttons on Emma’s shirt to pull it away enough to suck lightly on the space where her shoulder and neck meet, and Emma groans again. “God, I want you so bad.”

“But,” Regina says, pulling away, “We’ve gotta go.”

“I thought I was doing the teasing,” Emma whines.

Regina chuckles, “I think you’ll find that I’m always in charge.”

“Always?”

“Always,” Regina says, pushing the blonde to the side before giving her a final kiss and rising from the couch. Emma just gapes at her for a moment, dumbstruck before Regina smirks. “Don’t forget to fix your shirt, dear.”

“Right,” Emma says as she scrambles at the buttons on her shirt on her way off the couch. Regina quirks an eyebrow. “You got me all...distracted.”

“That’s one word for it.” She glances at the time once again. “I really don’t want to take you back there, but we should go soon. I don’t want anything to happen tonight, and getting you there late would be a bad start.”

“But if it anything does happen, you’ll be there right?”

“Of course,” Regina says, helping to straighten Emma’s shirt out before leaving her a chaste kiss. “We still need a code word.”

“Oh, yeah.” Emma thinks for a minute. “So you have a guilty pleasure food?”

“Cheeseburgers,” Regina answers immediately.

Emma snorts, “Okay, the code word can be _cheeseburger_. How does that sound?”

“If it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me,” Regina grins.

“ _Cheeseburger_ it is.”

Regina laughs and wraps her arms around Emma’s waist, kissing her lightly on the nose. “You’re adorable,” she comments before bringing their lips together. It’s so easy, the way they are together. It would be _so easy_ if she could just marry Regina instead.

The thought shakes Emma, and she isn’t sure she can handle it.

She doesn’t know what Regina would think so she remains quiet, pulling away with a quick, “Ready?” Regina nods, and Emma can tell she thinks that something is up, but if she notices anything, she doesn’t verbalize it.

“No, but we’re cutting it pretty close, so I guess I have no choice,” she says as she leads Emma to the door. They share one last kiss before Regina opens it and they step back into the real world and Emma puts her fake smile back on, for what is hopefully the last time.

_Never again._

**XXX**

Killian is already home when Regina gets there, and Emma does her best not to panic as she walks up the driveway to the front door. If anything, Regina had been more stressed than Emma when they saw his car, so much that she almost drove Emma off so she wouldn’t have to face him. But Emma had gripped her hand. “I’ll be okay. If I need you, you’ll know.” Regina had nodded, reluctantly stopping just out of sight of the house.

“You’ll be okay,” Regina had said as Emma slipped out of the passenger seat, and Emma had tried to give her a convincing smile.

And now, walking up to the front door, Emma repeats Regina’s words to herself. _You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay_. But she doesn’t believe them. Not when she reaches the front door, not when she walks inside, and certainly not when she hears Killian’s voice ringing from the living room, “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Sorry I’m late,” Emma mumbles.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Killian repeats.

Emma ignores his question again, shuffling toward the kitchen. “I’ll get started on dinner.” But of course Killian gets up to dart in front of her, his eyes hard against her. She doesn’t meet them. “Killian, I have to make dinner. I’m sorry I was late; it’s not gonna happen again,” she promises, shooting him an apologetic look.

Fortunately, he rolls his eyes and moves out of her way, grabbing another beer before retreating to the living room with a brisk “whatever.” She rolls her eyes too, grateful that nothing happened, and texts Regina a _so far so good_ , but she doesn’t hold her breath, and she’s sure Regina doesn’t either.

Dinner takes place in their usual silence, and Emma almost dreads the end of dinner, remembering the last time she had cleaned up on her own. But it goes without incident. She texts Regina a quick _still fine_ before heading upstairs, wanting to go to sleep as soon as possible. Tomorrow can’t get here fast enough.

But before she can change and climb in bed, Killian is suddenly there, brushing the hair from one side of her head to the other, kissing her jaw from behind, and Emma squirms away, not interested. It’s been weeks since he’s initiated anything. Why now?

He scoffs, “What’s the problem?”

“I don’t want to,” Emma says, her voice small, hopefully for the last time.

“Why?” he asks, deadpan, like he doesn’t even care for an answer.

“I’m still… bruised,” she admits, so quiet that she hopes he didn’t hear her, worried that he’ll think she’s being accusatory, but he just scoffs again, watching her for a long moment.

When he doesn’t move or further the conversation, she turns to change, and it’s not until her button up slides off her shoulders that he speaks. “I would have been gentle, you know.”

She doesn’t justify it with a response. She feels him behind her again, hands brushing from her bare shoulders to her wrists and back up again, and she doesn’t really _want to_ , but knowing it’s the last time might make it bearable. She’s considering just letting him do it when she realizes he’s frozen behind her, and his hands tighten their grip just enough to be alarming.

Sensing something’s wrong, she subtly grabs her phone from the dresser in front of her before turning to face her fiancé. She doesn’t expect any positive looks from him anymore, and certainly not now, but she’s surprised to see a heated repulsion in his eyes, lip curling in distaste, and it doesn’t take her long to realize that somewhere on her body is evidence of Regina. She doesn’t even try to explain.

While he’s distracted by his flaring anger, she turns on her phone to text Regina, but she only gets to _ch_ before he notices. She hits send, turns her phone off and hopes it’s enough. “Emma,” he says through his teeth. “You have something you wanna tell me?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

And then he laughs but it’s harsh and icy. He takes a step back and keeps laughing, but it warms a little, and if Emma was watching him out of context, she might think he was actually amused about something and laugh with him, but all she can do is watch in horror as his laugh gets more maniacal before it suddenly cuts off, his face returning to stone before he steps back towards her, the back of his hand colliding hard with the side of her face. She staggers backwards, crying out. “You fucking _whore_ !” he screams at her. “I knew it. I fucking _knew it_! And you lied to me just like I fucking said you did.”

Emma just stands there, shaking hand over her face, stinging from his ruthless blow. There’s not much point in denying it now, and if she did, it would only make everything worse. Admitting it would make everything worse too. So Emma stays quiet, and the room is so still for a moment that she feels dizzy.

It’s like time has stopped.

But then her phone buzzes in her hand, and everything happens all at once.

Killian snatches her phone, takes one look at it and throws it into the wall behind Emma. “I can’t believe you’re texting her!” he yells, voice like venom, but all Emma thinks is that Regina must have messaged her. She takes it as a good sign, and almost smiles until she feels Killian’s hand on her face again, the edge of the dresser in her back, a blow to her side, and she’s screaming at him to stop.

For a moment, he does.

She thinks it’s over.

“You want me to stop?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice unwavering. _Never again_ . He kind of laughs, shaking his head once, eyes growing dark to match every other hollow part of him. “Killian, _please._ You’re being… unfair.” _To put it nicely_.

He scoffs, “ _I’m_ being unfair? You’re the one who’s a two-timing slut.”

Emma shakes her head in disbelief, trying to ignore the pain in her body, knowing that only more will follow. _This is the last time. Never again._ “Are you serious? You’ve been cheating on me this entire time. I’m surprised you haven’t sent me back already.”

It’s hard to miss Killian’s eyes going black as he advances towards her again. “What?” he growls.

“I know about Milah. I saw the messages that day.”

His only response is a fist to her ribcage.

**XXX**

She’s not sure how much time has passed or how many hits she’s taken or where she is in the house. Everything started hurting and spinning, and now everything just hurts, with the spinning at a bare minimum.

Her shoulder is screaming, and she’s gripping it like her hand is the only thing keeping it attached, but she’s sure that’s not true. She hears screaming and her eyes close tighter. She feels a hand on her arm and she flinches. A soft hand brushes hair out of her eyes and a voice says her name and she wonders if she’s died so she finally opens her eyes to see and when she sees Regina, she sobs.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here. You’re safe now, Emma. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” she says as she brushes her hand gently to Emma’s face. “Are you comfortable?”

Emma kind of laughs.

Regina echos the sound, “I know, that’s a stupid question. I just hate to see you hurting. There’s an ambulance on the way, but in the meantime I wish I could help. But you probably shouldn’t move--”

“You are helping. You’re here.”

And if Regina wasn’t crying before, she is now, and Emma takes a moment to look around. “He’s not here.” Emma’s eyes flicker back to Regina. “Graham cuffed him and took him to the station They left not too long ago.”

Emma starts to nod, but it’s too difficult so she stops. “Did I fall down the stairs?”

“He pushed you down the stairs,” Regina corrects.

“Oh,” Emma winces. “I’m glad you understood the message. He was standing in front of me so it was really hard to try and get it to you…”

“Emma, you could have sent me a blank text and I would have been on my way here.”

“I don’t doubt it.” They fall into a silence, listening to the screams of an ambulance growing closer before Emma says, “I wish you could hold me.”

Regina smiles down at her. “You know I would, but it’s best not to move you.”

“Soon though?”

“Soon,” Regina nods.

When the ambulance arrives, Regina takes hold of the hand on Emma’s good arm and doesn’t let it go from the minute she’s on the stretcher being wheeled out of the house to the minute she’s being taken into the hospital. She stay by her side the whole time they’re taking care of her, giving her encouraging smiles that Emma returns.

She comes out better than she thought she would. Her shoulder is dislocated, and there’s a few more bruises starting to form, but each injury makes Killian more guilty and Emma more free, so she doesn’t complain.

_Never again._

Regina’s phone rings and she gives Emma a smile before leaving the room. “I’ll be back, okay?” She watches her leave with a smile. She isn’t sure what’s going to happen next, but she’s done with Killian and his abuse, free from the oppression she had so long denied and free to find an actual happy ending.

_A happy ending._

She watches Regina out the window of the hospital room door, admiring how beautiful she looks. Regina, who captured her heart when she thought someone already had it. Regina, who had shown her what it felt like to be wanted and admired when she was sure she already knew. Regina, who showed her that she deserved better and saved her when she needed it the most.

When Emma thinks about Regina, she thinks about a happy ending.

Regina turns to look at Emma through the window, giving her a full and genuine smile as she talks, and Emma smiles back, overwhelmed when the words enter her mind. _I love you_.

 _I love her_.

Emma swallows hard, somehow afraid of the realization, but unlike any way she’s ever known. She thinks it, she feels it, she knows it, but it’s heavy and raw and new, and she doesn’t know what to do with it.

Regina walks back in, her eyebrows knitted together, eyes downcast, and Emma doesn’t need her to say anything to know that the phone call was about Killian. “He’s not getting convicted is he?”

The brunette’s eyes go wide, “No, it’s not that. It’s just that what he’s getting doesn’t seem like enough.”

With that comment, Emma is expecting her to say he’s going to be in jail overnight, charged a fine of something small like $200, and being able to keep his job if he does some kind of volunteer crap. So when Regina says he’s being charged eleven months in prison, a $2000 fine, two years of probation, and a court mandated program on anger management, alcoholism, and abuse, not to mention the end of his career in law enforcement. Emma squeals.

“Emma, he deserves much worse. If it were me, I’d have him jailed indefinitely.”

The blonde shakes her head, “I know I should want the same, but I don’t. Not because I think he doesn’t deserve it, but because the most important thing to me is that he’s not a part of my life anymore and that I never have to see him again. I can file a restraining order right?”

“The restraining order is actually court ordered, so it’s actually already in the process. So, really the only thing you’ll have to worry about is…”

“My visa.”

“Your visa,” Regina repeats.

Emma feels the anxiety pooling in her stomach, her chest tightening, and she just wants to feels safe, so she asks, “Can we worry about that tomorrow?”

Regina nods, “Whatever you want. Graham told me a little bit about what to expect, but it’s late, so addressing it tomorrow would probably be for the best regardless. The other thing is that you’re free to check out tonight, or whenever, if you opt to stay here for the night.”

“Oh…” Emma mutters, looking away. She wants to ask if she can stay with Regina, but she isn’t sure how the other woman would feel about that. But she’s definitely not going back to Killian’s place, even if that means getting a room at Granny’s. “I, uh-- Maybe I should--”

“Do you want to stay with me?” Regina blurts, interrupting Emma’s suggestion that was going nowhere anyways. She breaths out a sigh of relief.

“Please?” Emma asks with a grin.

“The pleasure would be all mine. Just let me know when you’re ready, okay?”

Regina holds Emma’s hand all the way to her car. The blonde was fortunate that Regina had thought to bring her some comfy clothes, especially considering Emma hadn’t even arrived at the hospital in a full outfit. _I just had them handy_ , Regina shrugs, even though the entire night’s events point to Regina being ready to run to Emma’s rescue at so much as a keysmash sent her way.

 _I love her_ , Emma thinks.

 _I love her_ , Emma thinks as Regina leads her to the bedroom, holding her in her arms until she drifts off to sleep. When she wakes up, Regina is still there holding her.

 _I love her_ , Emma thinks when Regina makes her breakfast and kisses her sweetly whenever she’s within arm’s reach.

 _I love her_ , Emma thinks as Regina holds her on the couch and tells her that she’s going to have to go back to England soon, but this won’t be the end.

“Are you sure?” Emma asks, eyes wet with tears. Regina has her own, but Emma tries to disguise hers nonetheless.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else,” Regina says as she kisses Emma, gently at first, but then desperately, tugging at her shirt like if she holds her tight enough, she won’t have to go anywhere. Emma responds the same, allowing herself to melt into Regina, and give in to all her feelings, memorizing the heat of Regina’s body, the way her hands move against Emma, the way she tastes, the way she says Emma’s name when she wants her and when she has her and when she’s falling asleep, tangled up with her.

 _I love her_ , Emma thinks, grateful that she’s allowed to wait until the last minute to head back and that she gets to spend every minute of her final week with Regina.

But then the day arrives, and Emma whines into Regina’s hair that morning, not wanting to go. “Emma you have to. If you’re late, you could be banned from the country, remember?”

“I know,” she groans.

“We can’t have that. Because then how will you find your way back to me?”

“Because I…” She almost says it. _Because I love you._ But instead she laughs awkwardly and says, “If I could find a way to Killian, anything is possible.”

Regina just rolls her eyes.

_I love her._

**XXX**

Regina’s hand squeezes Emma’s as she walks with her through the airport, her other hand gripping Emma’s suitcase, which she insisted on taking for the blonde. “ _I can do it, Gina_ ,” Emma had tried, but Regina had shaken her head, the look on her face adorable when she said, so serious, “But if you take it then I can’t hold your hand.” Her pout and her logic were more than enough to convince her.

She walks her all the way to security, and when they get there, they both stop, staring at the barrier forlornly, trying to forget the inevitable space it’s going to start between them until they’re an ocean and a five hour time difference away. Emma can’t let herself think that though when the other side of security is already too far.

Turning to Regina, she untangles their fingers to wrap her good arm around the brunettes waist and tug their bodies together. Her other arm is still in a sling, but she fingers at the space between the shirt buttons, gently stroking at the skin of Regina’s stomach. The mayor sucks in a breath, closing her eyes before pressing her lips to Emma’s. They don’t hold back, and when they part, out of breath, they rest their foreheads against the other’s, neither wanting to pull back, knowing that this will be the last time.

Emma’s lips graze Regina’s again before she takes a reluctant step back. She walks backwards for a few paces until she decides that watching Regina looking after her is too hard. She turns around with one last smile and a little wave, but she only makes it a few steps before it occurs to her again.

_I love her._

_I love her, and I should tell her._

As if the universe has been listening, she hears her name being called out behind her, “Emma?” It’s so full of urgency and emotion that she freezes for a moment before turning back and all but dashing back to Regina.

She’s crying and Emma instinctively reaches to brush the tears from her cheek, but that only makes more fall. Emma thinks she should say it now, but as soon as she finally gets her mouth open, Regina is speaking instead, “I love you.”

Emma sobs out a laugh, and kisses Regina. “I love you too,” she says before kissing her again. “I’ve been wanting to tell you all week, but I’ve been too scared.”

“Me too,” Regina says with a sniffle, tears still falling despite her growing smile. She brings her hands to Emma’s cheeks, kissing her again. It’s wet from tears and inconsistent from the way they can’t seem to stop smiling, but it’s perfect.

They part again, and Regina strokes Emma’s cheeks while the she rests her palm on Regina’s to grip her hand as they both sober, realizing that they don’t have much time left. “I don’t want to go,” Emma whimpers.

“I know, but you have to,” Regina’s voice strains, and Emma can tell she’s trying to be strong.

“But I’ve just gotten you.”

“You’ll have me again.”

“How can you know that?”

“I just do,” Regina says, forcing a smile before leaving Emma with a final kiss. “You better go.”

Emma takes a step back, keeping their hands connected until they’re reaching for the other, only their fingertips brushing. “I love you,” she says, smiling, before turning and walking to go through security, moving briskly as though her speed will make the pain in her chest cease.

She passes through security with no issue, and walks down the short stretch of hallway. She turns one last time before rounding the corner to see Regina in the same place she left her, watching Emma go. She fights back a sob as she gives her another small wave, catching a glimpse of Regina blowing her a kiss before she’s out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any feedback is appreciated!


	8. Day 91 - Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is!! The final chapter. I seriously could not have done it without all of you and your incredible support, and especially not without Nicole, who gave me this idea to begin with. It became so much bigger and so much more important than I ever could have imagined. I hope everyone likes the end :) (also, I'm gonna go ahead and say this upfront that for the sake of this cute ass idea, I scrapped some facts but I'm sure you won't mind)

Emma sleeps the whole plane ride back to England, but when she’s jerked awake by the landing of the plane, she feels like she hasn’t slept at all. She sits in her seat until enough people have exited so she doesn’t have to stand for too long. As she trudges through the airport, she gets a few odd glances, confirming that she looks as dead as she feels inside, and when she sees her parents smiling at her, a mix of sympathy and joy to see her, the first place she goes is her mother’s arms.

Mary Margaret wraps her arms around her daughter, rubbing soothing circles around her back. Emma tries not to cry when her father takes them both in his arms, a hand against her hair as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head. “We love you,” her mother says.

They don’t talk again until they’re walking inside the house.

Emma sighs as soon as she enters. As much as she loved being in the US, and as much as she wants to return, she loves her childhood home. It smells the same as she remembered, and when she crashes on the couch it almost feels like she never left. Compared to being with Killian, being home is the best feeling; however, a certain brunette challenged her definition of home, and the homey feeling she wants to experience is incomplete.

Charming, her parents dog, named by Mary Margaret herself (“he reminds me of your father, look at those eyes!”), yips when he sees Emma, getting a running start before jumping on the couch to lick and cuddle her, and Emma smiles for the first time since leaving Regina at the airport. “Hey boy! Miss me?”

The dog barks in approval, his tail wagging so wildly behind him that he nearly topples over. She picks him up in the kind of embrace you can only give a squirming twenty pound dog and tries to keep hold of the warm feeling growing inside her, closing her eyes, focusing on the positives, and allowing the comfort of home to envelop her.

The couch shifts next to her, but she keeps her eyes shut. “Are you hungry?”

“No, Mom, but thanks,” she says, but the growl of her stomach betrays her. “Fine, maybe a little.” She glances to the woman next to her, smiling, eyes full of compassion.

“If there’s anything special you want me to make, just let me know. I can do grilled cheese?”

Emma snorts, “I’m not ten anymore, Mom.”

“You expect me to believe that your age is going to stop you from eating your favorite food?” she raises her eyebrows in challenge.

“Grilled cheese isn’t my _favorite_ food…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot about chocolate.” Emma snickers, and laughing feels so nice that she doesn’t stop. Mary Margaret joins her until it dies down, the frown creeping back on Emma’s face, her mom’s following suit. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Emma shrugs. She told her parents about the abuse a few days after Killian’s arrest. She hadn’t been sure if she wanted to open up to them about Regina, but it had brought itself up anyway when her mom had expressed concern about where Emma was going to stay until she could catch a plane back, adamant about her not staying in Killian’s house, something she wouldn’t have done regardless.

So she had told her mom about how she met someone, perfect in every identifiable way and everything she ever wished she had. “You would love her Mom. You’re both so different, but I think you’d get along, Her and Dad too.”

“Sweetie, by the way you talk about her, I’m sure we’ll love her. I’ve never seen you sound so happy,” her mother had said. Part of Emma broke right then, knowing that she’d be leaving soon, separated from the woman she wanted to remain side by side with.

Emma closes her eyes again, heaving a sigh, “I miss her. I’m worried I won’t be able to go back.”

“We’ll do some research, okay?”

“I told her that I love her,” Emma blurts, “At the airport. She said she loves me too.”

Mary Margaret grins, “You’re going to find a way, Emma. Love is the strongest magic of all. Well, maybe the only magic, or rather, the closest we’ll ever get to magic… but you hear my point, don’t you? Love is so much more powerful than time and distance.”

Emma smiles triumphantly, “And you know what else is bigger than time and distance? The internet.”

Or at least it’s supposed to be. It had been for her and Killian, but Emma realizes too late that Regina doesn’t exactly _do_ social media. She’s not on Facebook or Skype, and since they’re now in separate countries, her phone number is rendered useless.

She groans in front of the computer, all her resources exhausted.

“What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Dad. This is serious. Would it be unprofessional to message her work email? It’s literally all I have. Well, there’s LinkedIn too, but I’d rather not.”

David chuckles nervously, “Uh, I don’t know. I’m not really good at this kind of stuff.”

“I know you’re not,” Emma sighs. “You and mom share a Facebook page.”

“What’s wrong with that?” He ignores Emma’s eye roll, “Look, it’s only been a day since you left. She loves you, right?” Emma nods. “So, you aren’t the only one who wants to make contact. It sounds like she has more access to you than you do to her. I know you don’t want to be patient, but let her reach out to you.”

So Emma tries.

She checks every social media account she has every ten minutes, but she tries.

It’s clear her parents are at a loss, but they’re as supportive as they can be. Making sure Emma eats and has a blanket over her when she falls asleep on the couch. After a week, they start acting suspicious, telling Emma, “You know, I don’t think you should worry so much” and “Good things are worth the wait” and “Happy endings aren’t always what we think they will be.” Then the most cryptic coming from Mary Margaret, “Maybe she’s up to something.”

“Up to something? What does that even mean?” Emma asks.

Her mom shakes her head, shrugs her shoulders, and changes the subject. “I don’t know, sweetie. Would you like some tea?”

“That’s okay, Mom, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Mary Margaret shrugs again, a suspiciously cheery grin spreading across her face. Emma dismisses it because that’s just how she is, but when the woman’s phone goes off and she squeals, the blonde is back on alert.

“Mom, you’re freaking me out.”

“Hey, I think Charming wants to go on a walk. Can you take him?”

“Uh…” Emma swivels around to see the dog in question passed out on the couch, snoring in a deep slumber. “I think he actually has other plans.”

“Oh! Well, you know how he likes _walks_ !” Mary Margaret exclaims, moving closer to the sleeping puppy, putting emphasis on the key word to excite Charming and somehow convince both him and Emma that he wants to go to the park. ”Charming loves _walks_ ! Yes he does, who loves _walks_ ? Charming loves _walks_!”

“Mom, seriously?” Charming leaps up, sleep forgotten, panting a puppy smile and looking between Mary Margaret and Emma.

“See?”

Rolling her eyes, Emma drags herself out of the chair to grab Charming’s leash. “I’ll go, but only to get away from you. You’re acting so weird today.”

“Whatever you say, sweetie,” her mom says, grin back in place.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Sure you will.”

Emma shoots her mom another odd look before walking outside.

It’s a surprisingly nice day out, and immediately Emma wishes she’d thought to do this on her own without her mom’s eerie prompting. There’s a little park just down the street that Charming loves, and he’s basically leading the way once they’re out the door, and Emma lets him. He stops a few times on the way to sniff at an odd smell, to pee, or to pee again, and on the third pitstop Emma gapes at him. “Damn, how are you doing this?” She pulls out her phone to check it, but there’s nothing. Again. _She’s probably been busy._

Her thoughts are interrupted by a yip from Charming.

“You must think I’m pathetic, don’t you? Always looking at my phone, waiting like some kind of hopeless and lovesick fool.” He barks again. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s only been a week, but--” Charming barks, panting like he’s grinning. “Fine, I’ll shut up. Let’s go to the park.”

When they get there, the dog pees again, and Emma just rolls her eyes. She stops herself from picking up her phone again, occupying herself with a rock on the sidewalk, kicking it a little ways ahead and then again when she gets back to it. Her pace is dominated by Charming and his nose; it’s not the most consistent distraction, but it works.

She’s kicked the rock a little too far away when she hears it. Her name being called out from somewhere behind her. Her first thought is that her crazy mother has decided to follow her out here, followed by her second and more logical thought, that there’s either another “Emma” here, or she has misheard someone yelling something else.

But then she hears it again, a little closer. “Emma!” It’s definitely not her mother. Her heart picks up a little as she freezes where she is. There’s a feeling growing from somewhere inside her, and she’s not sure what it is, but it’s making her heart pound and her senses stutter uselessly as her ears focus on the voice. ”Emma!” It sounds like… no, but it can’t be.

The next time, the voice calls out closer, softer, more hesitant, and somehow even more intentional. “Emma?” She spins around, almost afraid that she’s going crazy, but when her eyes land on a pair of dark ones, even more beautiful than she remembers, she almost forgets how to breathe.

“Regina?”

The woman in question beams at the blonde. She’s only meters away, and Emma can’t help but question if she’s dreaming. She blinks a few times and Regina is still there, looking at her like no one ever has, like Emma is the answer to everything, like she wants to run to her but is actively keeping her feet on the ground so she doesn’t scare the blonde by lurching forward.

But of course, that’s what Emma does when she hears a watery chuckle and a soft “hi” leaving the brunette’s mouth.

“Regina!” Emma runs to the woman, who responds the same after Emma makes the first move. They meet each other halfway, and Emma throws her arms around Regina’s neck. Her shoulder still hurts a little, but it’s well enough that she can do this, thank god, because Regina is so warm and soft against her, and her scent is so emotionally overwhelming that she wants to cry. She buries her face into Regina’s hair, against her neck, and says her name again. “Regina.”

“Emma,” she says, leaving a soft kiss to her neck. Regina is definitely crying, by the sound of her voice, and Emma realizes when she pulls back and has to blink tears from her eyes that she is too.

With her eyes on Regina’s, the giddy adrenaline rushes back and she beings her lips to Regina’s before pulling back to explode with all her questions, kissing her between each one. “What are you doing here? [smooch] How did you find me? [smooch] What about work? Shouldn’t you be at work? [smooch] How long are you staying? [smooch] Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re here. [smooch] I missed you so much.”

Regina giggles as she cups Emma’s face, pulling her in for a longer kiss, their lips ardently moving together. Charming barks beside them and they laugh against each other, but Emma doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t want to.

When Regina does, Emma whines, which makes her giggle again, but then she’s taking Emma’s hands in hers, looking at them like she can’t look back up, and when she finally does, she just looks back down again.

Regina takes a deep breath before kissing the blonde again, so soft that it makes Emma lightheaded, before she pulls away, drops her hands, and starts to fidget. “Regina?” Emma asks, “You okay?”

“I, uh-- yeah. Yes,” she clears her throat. “I’m good, I’m good.”

“O-okay.”

She takes another deep breath before she gives in and takes Emma’s hands, needing to occupy her own somehow. “Emma…”

“Regina…” Emma laughs nervously.

“Emma. We haven’t known each other for very long, but you captured my heart immediately.”

“Oh my god,” Emma mutters, her eyes starting to water.

Regina gives the blonde an anxious smile before continuing, her eyes never wavering. “The moment I saw you in Granny’s on your first day in Storybrooke is a moment that’s always going to stay with me. I knew you were special without even needing to talk to you, but I’m glad I did. You changed my life, Emma. I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t imagine my life going in any other direction. Where I would be now if it weren’t for you is a mystery. One that I don’t want the answer to.

“The circumstance of how we came to be is terrible, and if I could keep you from ever going through that, I would, but it led us to each other, and I hope it doesn’t sound arrogant to say that I think we’re both better for it. Happier.

“When I told you that you deserved a happy ending, the night I came over for dinner, I think even then I realized that I selfishly wanted our happy ending to be the same. Together. I almost told you that the night before we went to the hospital, that you deserve a real happy ending and I wanted to help give it to you, but I thought it might be too intense, so I didn’t....  What?”

Emma is giggling out of control, remembering her thoughts from that night. “I almost said that too. I thought that when I looked at you, I imagined a happy ending. That was when I knew I loved you, without any doubts.”

“Really?” Regina’s voice cracks.

“Really,” Emma grins, blinking back more tears. “Sorry. Sorry, don’t let me interrupt.”

“It’s okay,” Regina smiles, looking down at their joined hands. “That’s actually a good lead in to the next part. So,” Regina laughs, “Uh, do you remember when I spilled coffee on you?”

“You mean when _I_ ran into you. I’m still not letting you take the blame for that,” Emma snickers.

“Yes, well… _Anyway_ ,” Regina continues, rubbing her thumbs against Emma’s hands. “You came over and borrowed my shirt, and the minute you walked into the kitchen with my shirt on, I knew I was ruined. I had suspected it before, but _then…_ I knew it then.

“I couldn’t stop imagining that you weren’t just visiting. That you lived there with me and you were wearing my shirt because you liked wearing my clothes without asking, and I was cooking you breakfast in bed, but you woke up before I could finish, and well… maybe it’s crazy, but I want that to be real.” She finally looks back to Emma’s eyes, smiling before dropping her hands again and rummaging through her bag.

Emma’s heart races as she watches Regina pull out a manila folder and shuffle it from one hand to the next before holding her gaze and sinking to one knee. “Oh my god,” Emma says again, her voice strained by emotion.

“Emma… I love you. Paperwork isn’t really romantic. I should have gotten you a ring, and I will, but for now…” she says as she hands Emma the folder. “It’s for another K-1 Visa. With me as your benefactor, as well as your fiancée.” After a beat, Regina starts babbling. “I know it sounds like I’m assuming your answer by starting the paperwork without you. Really, you can say whatever you want, I just--”

But Emma takes Regina’s hand in hers and pulls the brunette up and into her, crashing their lips together, losing herself in her fiancée ( _her fiancée_!) before leaning back just enough to smile at the beautiful brunette in front of her, “You’re the best fiancée I’ve ever had, babe.”

Regina rolls her eyes as a watery laugh escapes her lips, “You’re an idiot.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

 

Emma’s hand grips Regina’s the entire walk back home, the manila folder held to her chest with the other. Charming had taken to Regina, so she carries his leash as he skips happily next to her. Just outside the house, Emma turns to warn Regina about her mother before they walk in the door, but when Regina grimaces and the door flies open before Emma say anything, she almost smacks her forehead. _Of course_ they were conspiring together behind her back.

“Regina! It’s so lovely to see you again! And even more lovely to see you and Emma together! How’d it go?”

“Mom…” Emma grits through her teeth.

“Oh, Emma, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed! You really can’t--”

“Mom,” she interrupts. “What do you mean by _again_?”

Mary Margaret smirks, tugging Emma inside by the arm, Regina closely behind her. “Regina, would you like some coffee? I just made some.”

“Sure,” Regina smiles as Emma leads her to the couch where the blonde crashes down and groans into her hands.

“Emma? What about you? I’ve made you a cup already so I hope you want it.” She brings the coffee and joins the in the living room, smiling at them from her own chair.

“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Emma says, eyeing her mother.

“Right, okay. Well. Your first night back, when you fell asleep on the couch, you left your phone unlocked, so we got Regina’s information, and immediately we started searching to contact her for you.”

“Mom!”

“What? It’s not creepy if she was participating in similar sketchy behaviors…”

“Regina?”

The brunette in question grins awkwardly before nodding at Emma’s mom to continue the story. “Thanks!” Mary Margaret yips in gratitude. “So anyway, just like you, Emma, we couldn’t find anything. So I logged onto your father’s and my Facebook page and looked for people who listed Storybrooke on their profile. We only found a couple of people, and we messaged them all.” Emma gapes at her.  “Not our best choice. One woman was incredibly rude to us…”

“Oh god,” Emma massages her temples. “ _Please_ tell me her name wasn’t Milah.”

“It was! Wow, how’d you know that? Wait, that’s not…”

“Yep. Anyway, not important. What happened next?”

Mary Margaret blinks a few times before shaking her head and continuing. “Out of the other two people we found, one blocked us, I guess he thought we were weird.”

“Or a couple looking for a third. Joint account and all,” Emma points out.

Her mother makes a face, “Emma don’t be silly. If we were looking for a third, we wouldn’t message a _man_.” Emma nearly chokes on her coffee. “Besides, he wasn’t our type.”

“Who was it?” Regina asks.

“His name was Leroy something… I don’t remember.” Regina snorts. “Anyway, the third person did answer us. She actually knew you, which was what we were hoping for. Ruby Lucas? I like her. Anyway, she told us about how Regina had been searching for us, more specifically our address, so she could come over here to see you.”

“You couldn’t have just made a Facebook and message me?”

“I did!” Regina defends. Emma’s eyebrows rocket up. “Make a Facebook, I mean. I didn’t message you because I had this whole surprise planned. The minute I left you at the airport, I knew this was what I wanted to do.” The blonde’s heart swells.

“Yeah, so Ruby helped us get into contact with Regina through Facebook, and then once we could talk to her directly, it became so easy,” Mary Margaret continues. “She got paperwork started and bought a ticket here, and we did what we could to keep you in the dark. To make the surprise more effective.”

Emma blinks at her mother, the events of the recent past sinking in. “Is that why you’ve been acting so weird? How the hell did you manage to keep this secret?” Mary Margaret opens her mouth, but Emma cuts her off, turning to Regina, “And you. Did you block me on Facebook to keep this a surprise? Not to be creepy, but I tried looking you up constantly, just in case you changed your mind.” With a smirk, Regina pulls out her phone and starts tapping at it until Emma’s goes off a minute later. “Oh my god. You did! You blocked me!”

“Yes, dear, but I just unblocked you and sent you a friend request.”

“Which I’m not going to respond to yet just because you blocked me in the first place!” Emma laughs. “You’ve gotta pay for that, Gina. I’m making you wait.”

Her mom giggles across from them, “You are _so cute_ together!” Charming barks, jumping into Regina’s lap. “See! He thinks so too! It’s proof,” she says with an affirmative nod.

Suddenly, the door flies open. “Is she here?!”

Emma hides her face in her hands, “Oh no.”

“She’s here!”

David faces them, hands on his hips, smile growing across his face. “You guys are quite the sight.” He holds out his hand to Regina, giving it a firm dad shake. “It’s great to see you in person, Regina.” A silence falls between them where David looks like he’s about to say something else, but keeps changing his mind. Finally, he does. “So.” But that’s it.

It’s quiet again, both her parents grinning awkwardly at them until Emma can’t stand it anymore. She’s pretty sure what they’re skirting around anyways. “Mom, Dad, we have an announcement.” And she knows she’s sad the right thing when her mom squeals and leaps out of her chair, leaning down to give them an awkward hug, and David fist pumps, grinning at them. “I haven’t even said anything yet,” Emma mumbles, shifting uncomfortably in her mom’s tight embrace.

“You didn’t have to. They knew the whole plan before I even got here,” Regina says, confirming what Emma already figured.

“Of course.”

They spend the rest of the night talking, and Emma is pleased at how well her parents get along with Regina. She knew they would, but watching it is a whole other experience. They tell Regina she’s welcome to stay as long as she wants, and the brunette smiles at the offer.

That night, tangled up in Emma’s bed together, the blonde kisses her before pulling back and stroking the hair out of her face, still sticky from sweat. She looks so beautiful. “Hey, Gina?” Emma asks.

“If you’re going to ask if I want to go to sleep, the answer is no. We have lost time to make up for,” she smirks, pulling Emma closer to her, smiling when Emma moans against her mouth.

Emma pulls back again, reluctantly, “No, I was just wondering, how are you even here? You’re the mayor of a whole town. How did you even get time off?”

“I didn’t.”

“You didn’t?”

“No.”

“What do you mean? Did you lose your job?”

“I resigned,” Regina says, casually, like it’s the most normal thing to have happened. Emma is so shocked she can’t even justify it with a response. “It’s been a long time coming. They’ve actually been working to replace me for several months now. They found someone, and opportunity came up, so I took it.”

“Wow, I… I don’t know what to say. Why? What are you going to do?”

Regina grins. “Well… I was thinking that after we got married, we could move. New Orleans, right? Our honeymoon could be a roadtrip to our new home. If you want… I don’t want to assume your answer, but I know that’s what you wanted before. I’ve been looking at places we could live, but if you don’t want that, we could look at other options.” Emma buries her face against Regina’s chest, doing everything she can not to cry. “Are you okay?”

It’s a minute before she trusts herself to lean back and observe her fiancée. The tears had been too hard to hold back so she lets them fall. “Regina, I--”

“You don’t like it, do you?” Regina asks, disappointment lacing her voice.

“No, I… I _love_ it. I love _you,_ ” she smiles, pulling the brunette’s face to hers to capture her lips in a kiss. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Emma,” Regina says, suddenly serious. “Don’t think like that okay? Even if you don’t really mean it, which I hope you don’t. You deserve to be happy, and I think we both deserve this, deserve each other. Remember what I said? About you deserving a happy ending? I meant that. And if I can help give you that, I want to. For the rest of our lives.”

The blonde kisses her again. “I know you will. And I’ll do the same for you. For the rest of our lives,” Emma repeats. They lie together for a moment, sinking into the warmth of the other. “When should we have the wedding?”

“I don’t want to wait a minute longer than we have to.”

“What if we plan it now? Before the visa gets approved. And then when I fly back there, the first thing we can do is get married. Fuck ninety days. We only need one.”

“And then forever,” Regina grins.

“And then forever,” Emma echoes, kissing her fiancée before resting her head on her chest, comforted by the sound of Regina’s heartbeat, it’s excited rhythm matching her own.

* * *

 

It’s six months later, and Emma is practically shaking as she waits for her second flight to board. She’s in the states, just a few hours away from landing in Portland and running through the airport to find her parents. She laughs a little that she’s always meeting someone other than the person she’s engaged to, but this time, she has good reason.

She may be a two hour flight and a short drive from her destination, but she’s about four hours away from getting married to the greatest woman she’s ever met. Even though she’s already wearing her dress, something simple, it almost doesn’t feel real. When she boards the plane, like her last trip, a little old lady next to her smirks, “Are you just dressed up for fun or is today special?”

Emma beams, “Today’s about to be the greatest day of my life.” The woman smiles again before directing her attention elsewhere. The blonde tries to do the same, but all she can think of is Regina.

When the plane lands, she’s still thinking about Regina. Imagining how beautiful she’s going to look and wondering what she’s wearing and if she’s nervous. She’s in a daze as she glides through the airport, grinning when she spots her parents waving at her with a sign that just says “The Bride.” She’s too excited to roll her eyes.

“This is much happier than the last time we picked you up,” David comments before Mary Margaret smacks him on the arm.

“No, it’s okay. You’re not wrong. Thanks for being here.” Her parents had flown in early to help Regina get everything ready a few days before, so that the day Emma flew over, the wedding really would be happening first thing.

“You look beautiful,” Mary Margaret beams.

“Thanks,” Emma mutters, ducking her head. “Are you guys ready to go?”

They nod and lead her to the car. The wedding is in Storybrooke, on the beach. It was Regina’s idea, and Emma fell in love with it immediately. She helped Regina plan details as best as she could across the ocean from her fiancée, hoping it was good enough. The only thing Regina seemed to mind about the distance was the physical space itself. “Soon,” Emma had said whenever Regina looked like she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Now that the day is actually here, it doesn’t feel like “soon.” She hasn’t talked to Regina in over twenty-four hours, and it’s wearing on her, but she only has to go without for another hour or so, and most of that will be spent getting prepped and fawned over by her mother. Time should pass pretty quickly, Emma thinks.

And it does.

It feels like no time at all that the car is arriving at the beach, and Emma can smell the salty Storybrooke air. Her heart is pounding in her chest as her father opens the door for her, and holds out his arm for her to take. Her mother appears on her other side, passing her a bouquet of yellow flowers before taking hold of her other arm. “Ready?”

She’s so nervous that she doesn’t know who asked the question, but she nods anyway. She’s more certain of her answer than she is of anything else, and as her parents walk her towards where the aisle must be, Emma tries to get a grip. She thinks she’s managed okay, but then suddenly they’re _there_ and there’s music playing, and Emma’s gaze falls on Regina, waiting at the end of the aisle for her, wearing a dress so beautiful and a smile so wide that Emma’s sure she would pass out, if not for her parents holding her up.

She doesn’t know she’s crying until she reaches the front and Regina is blurry. She blinks away her tears, hoping she doesn’t mess up her makeup, and takes Regina’s hands in hers. “Hi,” Emma manages.

“Hi,” Regina responds, her own voice giving her tears away.

“I love you,” Emma whispers, taking in the sight of her soon-to-be wife, stroking her soft hands in her own, memorizing the way her eyes wrinkle at the side when she smiles at Emma, the way her cheeks tint ever so slightly and the way her lips quirk as if she’s trying not to smile too big. She wants to kiss her now, but she’s sure it’s against the rules, so she holds tight to Regina’s hands, her eyes never wavering, waiting for the magic words.

When they are finally spoken, Emma doesn’t hesitate before tugging Regina close by her hands and catching her lips with her own, as they glide together desperately. They have forever to do this, to kiss and to feel each other and love each other, but Emma can’t get enough. Other people are cheering and clapping, she’s sure of it, but when she pulls back, Regina is all she sees, eyes full of tears but so _so_ much love, and the only thing she hears is her wife’s voice, full of passion and promise.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Emma kisses her again.

Their happy ending is only beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any feedback is appreciated!


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